


When You're Ready

by magicianprince



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reality Show, Bachelor AU, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Miscommunication, Trans Katsuki Yuuri, Trans Male Character, Trans Victor Nikiforov, the yuuri/others tag is there mostly by nature of the show
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-10-03 16:22:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 40,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10251320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magicianprince/pseuds/magicianprince
Summary: After embarrassing himself as a contestant onThe Bachelor, Katsuki Yuuri accepts an offer to become the star of his own season of the show in order to clean up his image. He figures that he’ll find someone he gets along with, they’ll pretend to date for a bit, and then they’ll go their separate ways.Victor Nikiforov has other plans.





	1. Exits and Arrivals

**Author's Note:**

> this is a silly AU based on the reality television show 'the bachelor'.
> 
> sooo one day i started listening to the podcast 'rose buddies', which discusses episodes of the bachelor. then before i knew it i started watching the show with my friends. then i started writing this fic. what a whirlwind
> 
> thank you to my friends for always encouraging me on this fic! i have so many scenes i'm excited to get to and i wouldn't have even gotten chapter one without y'all. things to expect from this fic: silliness on par with the actual show itself, my blatant ignorance and disregard for how reality tv is actually filmed, and Romance

“Are you nervous?”

Katsuki Yuuri glanced away from the mirror and met Minako’s gaze from her position in the doorway. His makeup artist had finished with him and then hurried out a few minutes ago, but Yuuri had wanted to take a second to evaluate himself after she was done with him—he looked like a different person entirely, hair pushed back away from his face, eyes made more alluring. His stylist had found him a dark blue suit more well-fitted than Yuuri had ever bought for himself. He wished that the show hadn’t insisted on keeping this look for Yuuri’s second time on screen. Thinking about the impressions each incoming contestant probably had of him made Yuuri want to wince. 

Minako, who had hosted _The Bachelor_ long before Yuuri had even heard of the show, leveled him with a knowing look.

“I’m a little nervous,” Yuuri admitted. “It feels like I shouldn’t be, since this isn’t the first time I’ve been on the show. I mean, I should know what to expect. I’ve done a limo exit before too.”

Truthfully, Yuuri didn’t remember his limo exit. Anxious, still in disbelief that his friends and family had let him be on a show whose goal was to end with an engagement, he’d accepted every drink he’d been handed. By the time it had been Yuuri’s turn to exit the limousine and make his first impression, he’d been completely inebriated, a condition that had stuck with him all the way until he had been one of three contestants remaining. After he’d gone home, what little of his behavior he could remember sent him into fits of panic; thinking about the image he’d present on television had him wishing he could go back in time and act more like himself, and less like the party animal he became when he was drunk. Most of Yuuri’s memories included the drinking, people periodically reminding him that he should take off his binder for a while, and the strange feeling that he’d actually been disappointed to have missed one of the dates. He’d been invited to the winners’ wedding, too, and again gotten so drunk because of his anxiety that the night itself was murky and dark in Yuuri’s memory.

When the show had offered Yuuri the starring role on their next season, it had felt like a chance to show the world what he was really like, however plain and boring that reality was. As he’d been mulling over their contract, they’d offered to fund his top surgery. Taking deep breaths and not being sweaty all the time still felt like a luxury.

“You’ll be fine,” Minako said. “If you get too overwhelmed, I’ll tell the limo to drive extra slow bringing the next guy around.”

She was joking, but Yuuri was sure she would really do it if he asked. He gave her a grateful smile. “It shouldn’t get too bad. I mean, you know who all the contestants are, right? Nobody—”

“Yuuri! If I tell you who to watch out for, that would be cheating.” Minako grinned at him, looking every bit the professional reality TV host.

Sighing, Yuuri took a look around the dressing room. In the harsh fluorescent lighting, the mirror in front of him gleamed, but the rest of the room was blank and impersonal, with only a few chairs against the white wall and a table full of food Yuuri hadn’t touched. Even so, the room felt safer than what was waiting for him. “How long until we start filming?”

“Actually, I was coming to get you now,” Minako said. She reached out and took both of his hands in hers, pulling him out of his chair. Plucking Yuuri’s glasses off of the counter, Minako (a dancer before she had been a host) spun him gracefully around the room a few times before she settled the frames across the bridge of his nose. “Are you ready to meet the love of your life? Your soulmate? Your future husband?”

From over her shoulder, Yuuri could see his reflection in the mirror again. During the last season he’d been on _The Bachelor_ , the stylist assigned to Yuuri had asked him to wear contacts and to leave his glasses behind. Although his hair and makeup were similar to last season’s, seeing the familiar blue frames made Yuuri feel a little more like himself. Yuuri stepped away from Minako and adjusted his tie, making sure it lay neatly against his chest. He squared his shoulders. 

A future husband? Unfortunately for Minako, Yuuri wasn’t going to find anything on this show but a way to clean up his image.

“I’m ready to go whenever you are,” he said, even so.

* * *

Yuuri had never envisioned himself on reality television. He’d studied mathematics at an American college; he’d planned on returning to his family’s home in Hasetsu and then looking for a job in town so that he could remain close by and support his parents. With the prospect of finally graduating a year late at 23, Yuuri had been all set to pack up his things, say goodbye to his roommate, and catch a plane back to the family onsen.

He’d been folding shirts into his suitcase the day before his first final exam when his mother had called. “Yuuri,” she’d said when he’d answered the phone. It was just his name, but he could tell from her tone that something was very wrong.

Yuuri hadn’t seen his dog since he’d first left for university. After his mother’s phone call, he knew he would never see Vicchan, named for Yuuri’s idol and king of the figure skating world Victor Nikiforov, ever again. He failed all of his finals. Once he got home he fell into habits of going to bed early and sleeping in late, eating more, talking less. Eventually, his older sister Mari had taken matters into her own hands, sliding open the door to Yuuri’s room and peering down at where he was sitting slouched against the side of his bed.

“Hey,” she’d said. “You can’t just sit around all day. There’s an open call for international contestants for this show I watch. If you’re not out of this room doing something new by this weekend, I’m nominating you for the show. You know English, right?”

“Yeah,” Yuuri had said, because he did speak English fluently and there was no way that Mari would actually do that to him. 

His behavior hadn’t changed by the weekend, and a few months later Mari was seeing him off at the airport, shoving a suitcase into his arms and saying, “Have fun, little brother.”

And so, without much of an idea of how he’d gotten there, Yuuri had joined one of 30 other contestants on _The Bachelor_. Now in the shoes of the bachelor himself, Yuuri found that his view of the mansion that the contestants stayed in hadn’t changed much. The grounds were still beautiful in the nighttime, gardens lit with strings of light and the house’s exterior illuminated by tastefully arranged lamps. Yuuri was relieved that he wouldn’t be staying in the house again—it felt intimidating and the grandeur didn’t suit him at all. 

It would, however, probably awe and inspire the 25 men who would soon be arriving by limousine.

Yuuri kept an eye out for Minako as he stood in front of the mansion, patiently allowing his make-up artist to make frantic last minute adjustments. _The Bachelor’s_ film crew milled around, filling the air with murmurs. Yuuri wished that someone would just announce the start of filming, but this time last year, he’d been huddled in a limo with six other men, hands shaking as he downed another glass of champagne. The driveway was in a circular shape, so that each limousine could loop around several times, dropping off every man inside of it in intervals, before leaving and allowing the next limousine to begin looping. This meant that each man could see the bachelor meeting the other contestants through the car’s windows. Shivering a little in the cool night air was as relaxing as listening to soft music compared to that.

Minako pulled away from a group of producers standing near the driveway. She hurried over to Yuuri and clapped him on the back, uncaring of how the motion almost lead to Yuuri’s make-up artist stabbing him in the eye. “Twenty-five handsome men, all arriving to win your heart, Yuuri! Isn’t this exciting?”

Yuuri almost laughed out loud at the idea that even one man would be coming onto the show to win his heart. Win some publicity, more like. “Sure, sure. When are we starting filming?”

“In about…” Minako pulled out her phone and checked the time. “I think we’ll be ready in less than five minutes. Is that too soon?”

“Works for me,” Yuuri told her. Absentmindedly, he scratched under the suit’s sleeve at his wrist. “The sooner we can start, the better.”

Minako gave him a look like she could see right through him and then waved his make-up artist away. “Alright, move over here a bit. Two steps to the left. Your left. Okay, turn towards the driveway just a little bit. Perfect. Now, first they’re going to film just us talking for a few minutes. Sort of about what your reason for being here is, what kind of partner you’re looking for, that kind of thing. Understand, Yuuri?”

There was a small commotion as someone shouted, “Places, everyone!” 

Yuuri kept his eyes on Minako and tried not to let a shudder go through him. “Uh, yes?” Yuuri said. Truth be told, he’d never watched a single episode of the show, too embarrassed to watch his own drunken antics, so he wasn’t actually sure what types of things the bachelor usually said in this interview. 

“With confidence,” Minako urged. Her gaze was intent on his.

Yuuri supposed he could just stick with the points he’d made for the interviews they’d already filmed for commercials. “Yes, I understand, I’m ready.”

“We’re ready when you are,” Minako called out to the crew, a sing-song lilt to her voice. There was a shuffle of activity before the set descended into silence. One of the crew members counted down, and Minako backed up a few steps. Once the countdown ended, Minako moved forward, acting like she was just walking up to Yuuri. “Yuuri, it’s so good to see you on the show again. Are you nervous?”

“A little,” Yuuri replied, playing along, “since last time I was on the show, I felt like I wasn’t really true to myself. I want to be more authentic this time around. I just hope that the men who are on their way appreciate who I really am.”

“I don’t think it’s too hard to admire someone for wanting to be honest about who they are,” Minako said.

“That’s true, but I don’t want someone who just admires me.” Yuuri took a deep breath, drawing on the lines he’d already delivered to the show before. “I want someone who will feel inspired by me, and who I can feel inspired by too. I want someone who will surprise me, and I want someone who understands me and still wants to stick around. I’m here for a husband that will be open with me always. I know that man is out there someone, and I’m hoping he’s on his way right now.”

“I know he is, Yuuri.” Minako put a hand on his shoulder. “You deserve someone who’s all those things and more.”

“Thanks, Minako,” Yuuri said. He smiled at her and then glanced out towards the driveway.

The film crew decided to cut there. A brief pause ensued while they decided if they wanted to do another take. 

“I’m impressed, Yuuri,” Minako said while they waited. “I remember for your first interviews for us, you could barely get a word out. You’ve really gotten used to this.”

Yuuri winced. “If I ever start getting nervous, I just think about how much of a mess I was last season. Nothing I say now can make me look as bad as I did then.”

Minako and Yuuri did a couple more takes so that the producers would have more footage to work with, and then Minako was patting his shoulder. “They’ll be bringing the limos up soon. Relax and have fun with it, okay, Yuuri? Try to remember everyone’s names. And keep in mind who you’ll give your first impression rose to.”

She and the rest of the crew settled into positions where they wouldn’t be within camera shots; a few people went into the mansion with their equipment, ready to film the first night’s cocktail party. The wait stretched on. Yuuri stared out at the driveway, feeling a little sick. What if he made a fool of himself again? What if coming back onto the show had been a mistake?

He could hear the sound of a car in the distance. Yuuri stood up a little straighter, plastering a smile on his face that he hoped looked more excited than terrified. By the time the first limousine pulled up, Yuuri had wiped his sweating palms on his pants twice. 

The windows of the gleaming black limousine were dark. Yuuri’s smile became a little more stiff as he imagined what was certainly happening inside: men craning their necks to get a glimpse of him, faces pressed up against the window. There would be four limousines in total—the next would pull in later, after Yuuri had finished meeting the men in this one. Twenty-five men—twenty-five people expecting all sorts of things that Yuuri just wasn’t. 

Yuuri took a deep breath. The door to the limousine popped open.

The man who stepped out had dark skin, gleaming black hair, and a wide smile. His suit was a deep red with gold accents. He had his hands cupped in front of him, and as he walked down the lamp-lit pathway towards Yuuri, whatever was in them moved. Had this been Yuuri’s first time in front of the cameras, he might have glanced over at Minako questioningly. As it was, Yuuri met eyes with his first contestant and did his best to smile back.

“Hello!” the man said, reaching Yuuri. “I’m Phichit—it’s really nice to meet you. I’d shake your hand, but, well.”

The reason that Phichit couldn’t shake hands became clear when Yuuri looked down and realized that Phichit’s cupped hands were holding three small hamsters. 

“Oh,” he said, laughing a little. He felt some of the tension ease from his shoulders. “It’s, um, it’s nice to meet you. All of you. I’m Yuuri.”

One of the hamsters began to crawl up Phichit’s arm. Phichit, unruffled, placed the other two hamsters on his shoulders and then finally took Yuuri’s hand in his. “I’m really looking forward to getting to know you, Yuuri.” 

“You, too.” Yuuri tried not to let his relief show too obviously in his voice. He was glad someone like Phichit had stepped out first, rather than one of the inevitable contestants who had a ridiculous exit planned. “What are their names?”

“The darker brown one is Strawberry, the light brown one is Dandelion, and the silver one is Pipkin.” Phichit motioned towards each hamster as he named them with his free hand. 

“They’re adorable,” Yuuri complimented. 

“Would you like to hold one?”

Over Phichit’s shoulder, one of the producers made a hand motioned that Yuuri recognized as a sign to move things along. He gave Phichit a regretful smile. “Maybe once we’re all inside?”

Phichit nodded easily. “See you there,” he said, squeezing Yuuri’s hand once. He and his hamsters headed towards the mansion. 

Yuuri watched him go and then turned back towards the driveway, watching as the limo circled around again. That…really hadn’t been so bad. If all of the contestants were like that, than the evening would be pretty stress free for Yuuri, even as it was stressful for the show’s producers. A plethora of polite and friendly people did not make for good television.

After Phichit’s exit, Yuuri found himself more relaxed as he greeted the next few contestants. They were all friendly, and—as much as Yuuri hated to say it—a little unremarkable. He just hoped that he would remember their names later, as they hadn’t brought pets with them like Phichit had.

Luckily, the fifth contestant to exit the limousine was a familiar face. “Michele? Sara’s brother, right?”

Sara Crispino had been the most recent lead on _The Bachelorette_ ; after a dramatic season, she had finally chosen Mila Babicheva as the winner of the show. As far as Yuuri knew, the two of them were still together—he’d met them both through his own dealings with _The Bachelor_ franchise. Michele had the same skin tone and eye color as his sister, but lighter hair. Yuuri had only seen him before in photos on Sara’s instagram. He looked as severe in person as he did on a screen.

Michele drew closer; he smiled, and a bit of the severity disappeared. His purple suit was glittering in the lights along the path towards the mansion. “Yes, that’s me. You know Sara, I’m guessing?”

Yuuri reached out shook Michele’s hand as Michele came to a stop in front of him. “We’ve spoken a few times. How are she and Mila?”

Something in Michele’s face tightened. “Sara is fine. It’s nice to meet you, Yuuri.”

Sensing that he’d made a misstep somewhere, Yuuri moved the conversation away from Michele’s sister and then sent Michele inside when the limousine began to loop around the driveway again.

The last man to step out of the limousine had light skin, blue eyes, brown hair, and a neatly trimmed beard. He marched right up to Yuuri in a light blue suit and drew Yuuri into a warm embrace. “Oh!” Yuuri said, face pressed into the man’s shoulder. “Um—”

“I’m Emil,” the man interrupted. He drew back and stared into Yuuri’s eyes, saying nothing.

Unnerved, Yuuri stared back, trying not to break into a sweat. What on earth was—

“I read somewhere that if you stare into someone’s eyes for a while, you’ll fall in love,” said Emil, and he was grinning again. He waited, expectant.

“Is that right?” Yuuri said weakly.

“I don’t think it works, but I figured it couldn’t hurt to try. I’m really excited to be here,” Emil said, and okay, he was just really earnest. Yuuri could deal with that.

“Well, I’m excited you’re here too,” Yuuri told him, despite the anxiety fluttering in his stomach.

They talked until the producers’ hand-waving got too emphatic to ignore, mostly because Emil was determined to learn Yuuri’s favorite food, color, animal, and what his life dream was. Yuuri was glad that he’d managed to send Emil inside before he’d had to go into too much detail on the last question—he still had no idea what he was going to do after this season of _The Bachelor_ , and it didn’t bear thinking about until after he’d gotten through the next few weeks.

The first limousine left the driveway, and the second swung into the circle. Yuuri couldn’t believe he had already gotten through one limo. It had been…actually, a lot tamer than he had been expected. There had been some awkward moments, sure, but only moments.

Then the first man in the next set left the limousine, and it was Christophe Giacometti.

Yuuri’s mind went blank. While not as much of a fan of Chris’ skating as he was of Victor’s, Yuuri still knew who he was. It seemed impossible that he was standing at the end of pathway that led in Yuuri’s direction. He couldn’t help but gasp as Chris’ green eyes met his. Why was Chris here? He should have been training, running through programs on the ice, not standing here watching Yuuri stare at him incredulously. 

Before Yuuri could say anything, Chris put a finger to his lips. He reached for the buttons on his shirt.

The next few minutes felt like a fever dream, because—because Christophe Giacometti was slowly stripping his clothes off as he walked towards Yuuri, and Yuuri didn’t know where to settle his eyes. Chris didn’t look away once, even as Yuuri’s gaze couldn’t seem to settle anywhere. What was even happening? Why wasn’t Minako saving him? 

The set was dead silent.

The time between each thump of clothing hitting the ground felt like an eternity. By the time Chris reached him, he was left in only his underwear, or so Yuuri hoped because he was definitely not moving his stare anywhere below Chris’ eyes.

“Um,” Yuuri said.

Chris leaned closer towards him. He let out a laugh, and it was a deep, low sound.

“Um!” Yuuri said, more insistently as Chris put his mouth right up against Yuuri’s ear.

“If you want me to take the rest off,” Chris told him, blonde hair tickling the side of Yuuri’s face, “then you’ll have to find me inside. Lovely to meet you.”

He left his clothes right there on the pathway and went inside. Yuuri stared down at the pieces of the dark brown suit scattered in front of him and tried, very firmly, to tell himself that he was dreaming.

One of the producers finally cleared his throat. “Will someone pick up the suit and bring it inside, please?”

“Yes,” Minako said immediately.

“Someone besides the host of the show,” the producer clarified.

The pathway was cleared. Yuuri squared his shoulders, and focused on taking the procession one person at a time. 

He spoke with a man named Georgi who took both of Yuuri’s hands in his and talked of the importance of love so ardently that it made Yuuri uncomfortable. He spoke with a contestant who had brought a wedding cake and attempted to feed Yuuri a piece of it. He met a man who refused to leave his side and almost had to be dragged away by crew members. Another contestant named JJ, strolling down the pathway, blasted a song he declared was his theme music. The limousine left, only to quickly be replaced by another. 

Yuuri hated to admit it, but he was starting to wear down. 

The third limousine thankfully held few surprises—Yuuri could remember the name of only one man. This was because Seung-gil had a voice so quiet Yuuri’d had to lean closer in order to hear him. This was also because Seung-gil was wearing a suit so vibrantly multi-colored that Yuuri felt he’d never see anything else like it again.

The first man out of the fourth and final limousine was just as quiet, but was also wearing an unassuming black suit. “I’m Otabek,” he’d said, and then had nodded after Yuuri had introduced himself in return and gone right inside. Yuuri gave Minako a confused glance. 

She shrugged. “Only a few left now,” she promised, as if she could see his spirit wilting.

Yuuri returned his attention to the driveway. He blinked. 

The limousine wasn’t looping back around. 

Minako had said there were still a few men left to meet, and when Yuuri squinted into the dark, he could see the limousine idling on the other side of the circular driveway, as if it were waiting. Cautiously, Yuuri waited too, trusting that if something was wrong then one of the show’s producers would be shouting for a pause in filming. 

Eventually, he heard the sound of hooves tapping against the driveway. A white shape rounded the corner and entered Yuuri’s line of sight.

_Oh, God_ , was Yuuri’s first thought. _Someone actually brought a horse._

The horse was strikingly white in the dark. Yuuri’s gaze traveled up, examining the rider’s clothing. If Yuuri had to choose one word to describe it, it would be ‘princely’. The outfit was a soft pink, with a black portion on the front connected by gold strands that were hard to see at this distance but gleamed whenever light hit them. A white collared shirt peeked out from under the rider’s clothing. The man was holding a bouquet of blue roses.

_Oh, God_ , Yuuri thought again when he saw the rider’s face. Because the person riding the horse had piercing blue eyes, an easy smile, and distinctive silver hair.

Because the person riding the horse was the professional figure skater Victor Nikiforov.


	2. A New Season For Victor Nikiforov

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaand wrapping up on victor's limo exit! last season (of the actual show) someone rode up on a camel and it was hilarious, so i definitely wanted to have someone do something similar in this fic lol
> 
> thanks to everyone for reading!

It occurred to Victor, halfway through his journey down the driveway, that he probably should have learned how to ride a horse.

In all other things, Victor had confidence in his own grace. Skating, dancing, moving through life with ease—but all of these activities were, in general, self-reliant. Victor had once skated a program while embodying the image of a daring rogue being chased on horseback, which was the closest he’d ever gotten to relying on a horse to get him where he wanted to be. The goals of the horse in Victor’s mind were one with his own. The horse underneath him, when his reigns had first been handed to Victor, had let out a sigh so forlorn that Victor wondered if it could tell right off that he was an inexperienced rider.

The horse ambled on. In all honesty, Victor felt a little foolish. He hoped that it wasn’t too obvious to Yuuri that his posture on the horse was too stiff, and that was he was barely guiding it at all. 

As he drew closer, Victor could see that Yuuri looked just as beautiful as the last time they’d met in person. Yuuri’s eyes shone, dark in the nighttime but lit with the same spark that had drawn Victor to his side months ago. His hair was pushed back away from his face, leaving his features open to Victor’s perusal. His dark blue suit was perfectly fitted—much better than the one he’d been wearing last time. The more the finer details of Yuuri were revealed to him the more Victor’s worries began to melt away. Victor longed to jump down from the horse and just run to him, but he had an entrance planned, and he was going to stick to it. 

Yuuri’s gaze met his. Victor watched as the other man’s jaw dropped.

_He recognizes me_ , Victor thought, and had to fight not to let his smile go too giddy. He was supposed to be poised, princely—never mind the fact that he was currently clinging on to the horse’s reigns for dear life with the hand that wasn’t clutching a bouquet.

“It’s,” Yuuri said, sounding out of breath. “You? Victor?”

The way Yuuri was looking at him, astonished, a hint of red in his cheeks, was too much for Victor to bear. It was a little early, but Victor somehow managed to bring the horse to a stop about a foot away from where the men would usually exit the limousine. A crew member hurriedly walked up and took the reins of the horse, leading it off of the driveway. Victor made a show of adjusting his outfit and then began to walk the rest of the way towards Yuuri. There was no need to look _too_ eager, no matter how he really felt.

Yuuri’s expression didn’t change, even as Victor reached him. Victor took Yuuri’s hand in his; Yuuri’s palm was a little sweaty, but he _had_ probably just shaken hands with over twenty people. Victor had to suppress a laugh as Yuuri’s gaze dropped quickly to where Victor’s shirt lay open over his chest and then back up to his face. Being close to Yuuri again was a wonder. All at once Victor was glad he had chosen such a silly entrance—he’d wanted to surprise Yuuri, and he looked forward to laughing over it together later.

He squeezed Yuuri’s hand gently, and took a deep breath.

“Last time I saw you, you swept me off my feet,” Victor said, lifting their joined hands and pressing a kiss to Yuuri’s knuckles. He winked. “Now it’s my turn to sweep you off yours.”

The words, the kiss, or perhaps both seemed to shock Yuuri out of his stupor a bit. He blinked and nodded. Victor noticed his gaze darting towards a woman with brown hair standing with the rest of the camera crew. His cue to head inside, then?

He let go of Yuuri’s hand, letting their fingers brush. He felt Yuuri’s eyes on him all the way to the mansion’s door, and didn’t bother to suppress his smile. 

* * *

It was true that Victor was the most decorated man in figure skating, but Victor thought it might also be true that he was the most bored. Multitudes of gold medals all felt the same after a while. Victor knew that it was a luxury to think so. Still, once inspiration was lost, it couldn’t be found easily under a couch cushion again, the way a pair of car keys might. He’d spent a lot of sleepless nights wondering if he should just retire, as people had been saying he would for years now. 

He loved to surprise people. Now every win, every new program he pulled out was just confirmation of what people already knew to be true about him. Where was the inspiration in that?

While Victor was searching himself for new program ideas and coming up short, his manager had approached him with a television offer.

“It’s kind of a silly show,” she’d said, “but it’ll only take a few days, and I think you need a change of pace. I already talked with Yakov.”

That Yakov had approved had been proof enough that Victor’s willpower was visibly flagging—Yakov had a strict training schedule that he stuck to as if his life depended on it. If Victor accepted, he would appear on _The Bachelor_ as a celebrity guest, taking the lead and a few contestants on a group date where he would teach them a few ice skating skills. At the end of the date, he would pick one of the contestants to receive a special prize. What he judged on was left up to him. The prize would be an extra hour at the rink alone with the bachelor, and a dinner elsewhere.

Victor had appeared on American television before, but never on a dating show. He was at least glad that his role seemed so simple. Skating had been his top priority in life for so long—supervising a few people on the ice would be as easy as breathing. 

And it had been simple. Once they’d finished filming his introduction, Victor had been free to skate around with the contestants at his leisure and ignore the camera for a while, only stepping in to steady someone if the bachelor was currently occupied with someone else. One person going on a date with so many people at once seemed like a terrible way to get to know someone, but Victor supposed it _was_ a reality TV show. More ridiculous premises had been pitched and aired. It had been nice, in a way Victor had once taken for granted, to be able to skate with no thoughts in his head besides being on the ice. Victor ran through bits of old choreography, just because he could. He taught a young woman how to skate backwards without falling over. The chill of the rink welcomed him as it always had. Close to the end of the date, he decided he would choose the special prize winner based on how much fun they’d seemed to have, and selected the young woman he’d taught to skate backwards earlier.

The day was a nice break. But at the end of it all, Victor was still uninspired, still tired, and still in need of a new program. He had thought that would be the end of his time on reality television. 

And then he had been invited to the winner’s wedding, and he had met Katsuki Yuuri. 

After a night of dancing, Yuuri with his hands on Victor’s waist, swaying together in the middle of the crowd—after Yuuri’s arms clinging around his neck, and Yuuri’s voice saying, “Victor, please be on my season!” Victor had made a phone call to his agent.

He had told her he was taking the next figure skating season off.

* * *

Victor was stopped for a brief interview before he was allowed to enter the cocktail party. The producers prompted him with questions, but he really didn’t need encouragement to gush about how excited he was to see Yuuri again. After a few minutes, they released him and another man walked in to take his place in front of the cameras.

The first thing Victor noticed when he walked into the room was that the color scheme was very red. The second thing he noticed was Christophe Giacometti, sitting on a couch and grinning at him expectantly. An opened bottle of red wine was on the table in front of him, as well as a few glasses.

“Chris!” Victor exclaimed over the murmur of the people already inside, heading over. He chose to ignore, for now, that Chris was in only a bathrobe, with a brown suit folded neatly beside him. “Chris, what are you doing here?”

Chris had gotten a haircut since Victor had last seen him; he ran a hand through it, still grinning at Victor. “Now, you can’t expect me to listen to you go on and on about this cute man you met at a wedding, and not come see what he’s all about, Victor.” When Victor sat down beside him, he settled back against the deep red sofa, turning so that his body was angled towards Victor’s. 

“Your season?” Victor asked, quietly.

“Victor,” Chris said, “we all knew it was a matter of time for me.”

Not bothering to offer sympathy that might end up making Chris feel worse, Victor put his hand on Chris’s shoulder. Like Victor, Chris had been dogged by retirements rumors for years. If they had caught up to him, that was Chris’s decision, and Victor would support him through it.

After a minute Chris looked at Victor and smiled. “He’s a lot different than I had been expecting.”

“Yuuri? What do you mean?”

“Well, first I heard from you that he danced the night away and was the center of attention the entire after-party. That he was the most gorgeous man to walk the earth, that sort of thing. Then I watched the season he was on. He was, ah, exuberant, you might say? Always ready to dance. So,” Chris said, beginning to look a little concerned, “I wanted to leave a strong impression. I thought maybe he would think it was funny. He looked more ill than anything else, though.”

“I’m sure it was fine,” Victor said. Like any figure skater, Chris’s performances on and off the ice could be intense, but he was a good man. “Is your entrance why you’re in a bathrobe right now?”

A sly look crossed Chris’s face. He shifted in his seat, and the collar of his bathrobe fell a bit, revealing more of Chris’s shoulder. “I’ve already showed off my assets, and now I’d like to have them readily available at any time.”

Victor pouted. “For Yuuri?”

Chris laughed and pulled his robe back into place. “Don’t worry, I was joking. Really, it’s because it’s so hot in here. Look at that poor young man by the door.”

The ‘poor young man by the door’ was in fact looking at little sweaty in his brightly multi-colored suit. Victor was glad that the outfit he was wearing was pretty light. “What do you think his exit was?”

“I don’t know. I tried talking to him, but he seemed distracted. That man over there,” Chris said, pointing to a man chatting with a few others close to the door, “is named Phichit, and he showed up with three hamsters. Adorable.” 

“Him or the hamsters?” Victor joked. Phichit noticed him looking over and waved. Smiling, Victor waved back.

Chris snorted, but he didn’t respond to Victor’s question, seemingly lost in thought. “Victor, I don’t know how to say this. Were you planning on bringing up the after-party to Yuuri?”

Confused, Victor nodded. “It’s the reason I’m here.”

Sighing, Chris gestured to a small group of men looking morose against a wall. “I spoke with a couple of them earlier. Apparently, they mentioned Yuuri’s party-boy behavior on his previous season, and his expression just…shut down. They all think they’re going home tonight. You know how I said Yuuri is different from how I’d been expecting?”

“You did.”

“All I’m saying is take it slow, Victor,” Chris said.

“Ah,” said Victor. “You mean, let him lead the conversation, because he might be looking for a fresh start?”

“Exactly,” Chris said, as another man entered the room. The newcomer had the same despondent look that the wallflowers had, and gravitated towards them without even needing to exchange words. Chris grimaced. “How many people are left?”

Victor did a quick head count. “Just one more.”

He would see Yuuri again soon, have the chance to talk to him. Victor felt a fluttering in his stomach that he hadn’t felt in a long time. It was like the anticipation before heading onto the ice with another record-breaking routine, knowing you would be breaking world records you hadn’t already set yourself.

The final man entered the cocktail party, ambling along with hands in his pockets. Victor sat up a little straighter, as did nearly everyone else in the room. 

What would he say to Yuuri? Would Yuuri come right to him, or would the constraints of the show make Victor wait? Victor thought again of the shocked recognition on Yuuri’s face, of the way he hadn’t been able to stop himself from checking Victor out. He smiled.

And Yuuri walked through the door.

Instantly, the room’s noise swelled as the men inside rushed to greet him. Victor considered leaping up to join them, but decided he couldn’t leave Chris to recline on the couch by himself. Besides, Yuuri had his hands full, looking nervous as he responded to each contestant. Right away, he was taken by the hand and led somewhere more private. As Yuuri left the room, he met Victor’s eyes, but quickly snapped his gaze away.

Victor couldn’t help the swell of disappointment that rose in his gut, even though he knew he would get to speak to Yuuri at some point in the evening. He’d known what he was getting into when he’d signed up for a dating show—time with Yuuri would be limited, and he wouldn’t be the only person chatting Yuuri up.

Chris reached out to pour them both a glass of wine. “Fast work,” he commented, handing Victor a drink.

Shrugging, Victor took a sip and sighed. 

Throughout the night, he waited for a chance to speak to Yuuri, but it seemed every time he returned to the main room, Yuuri’s attention was swept away by someone else. Chris stayed on the couch for a while, but eventually began to seek out better drinks and was drawn into other conversations. Victor realized that he had three options: wait on this sofa by himself, wait while talking to a few of the other contestants, or take matters into his own hands.

A couple of men glanced in his direction when Victor stood, but most ignored him. He left the room and went down a dark hallway, searching for where the latest contestant had chosen to talk in private with Yuuri. 

Eventually he found the two of them outside by the pool, sitting with their feet in the water. In the nighttime, with the only light coming from the pool itself, the scene would have been peaceful if not for the camera stationed on the two of them. Victor walked closer, trying to appear confident, and as he came up closer the two seemed to hear him. 

They turned. Victor tried not to get lost in drinking in the sight of Yuuri, and his brown eyes dark in the dim illumination coming from the pool.

“Can I steal you away?” he said, aiming his most charming smile at Yuuri and ignoring the other man completely. 

The other contestant gave him a dirty look, probably because he’d known what Victor had been about to say. Heaving himself up from the pool’s edge, he grabbed his socks and shoes and left without a word. Yuuri began to stand up too, but Victor stopped him by bending to remove his own shoes and socks. He rolled the ends of his pants up and joined Yuuri, slipping his feet into the cool water.

The silence was a little awkward, at first. Suddenly Victor couldn’t decide if he should say anything. Letting Yuuri lead the conversation had been a good idea, but Yuuri didn’t seem too eager to begin one. Yuuri wouldn’t even look at him. Victor felt the first tiny hints of doubt creep into his mind. 

Yuuri had asked him to be here, hadn’t he?

There was a rustle beside him as Yuuri shifted, and then Yuuri cleared his throat. “Thank goodness you came by,” he said. His voice was soft and quiet. “He wouldn’t stop talking about how beautiful my feet looked in the water.”

Surprised, Victor let out a sharp laugh. “A keeper, then?”

Finally, Yuuri looked at him. There was an edge of disbelief to the way he looked at Victor, even still. Victor wanted to reassure him that this wasn’t a dream, but he wasn’t sure how Yuuri would react. “We’ll see,” Yuuri said, and then, “You don’t even seem fazed by the cameras.”

“Oh, are we allowed to talk about the cameras?”

Yuuri looked down at the water, feet moving gently from side to side. “They can edit things out, you know.”

“True enough,” Victor agreed, though he was far more used to watching his words on live television. “I’ve been in front of cameras a lot, I guess. I’ve been in the spotlight for most of my life.”

Yuuri was nodding. “For figure skating.”

The absolute certainty in his voice thrilled Victor. So Yuuri knew that he was a skater. Had he watched any of Victor’s programs? 

“I started when I was very young,” Victor said. “Yakov, my current coach, was actually the one who originally scouted me.”

“Is he as grumpy as he looks on TV?”

“Even more so,” Victor said, grim, and the two of them shared a smile.

The conversation fell to figure skating, which felt like a safe topic for both of them. Victor hadn’t known Yuuri was such a big figure skating fan, but it was thrilling to have something in common already, especially when it was something so important to Victor. They talked until someone appeared in the doorway to interrupt them, taking Victor’s lead from earlier in the night. Victor smiled regretfully and stood.

“I’ll talk to you later, Yuuri,” he said, collecting his shoes and socks. Yuuri hadn’t brought up the wedding after-party at all, and didn’t seem likely to—then again, he was full of surprises. Victor was fine with waiting. He would have to thank Chris later for his good advice. 

“I’m looking forward to it, Victor,” Yuuri said, and the way Yuuri said his name was a dream.

* * *

“What did you think of your conversation with Yuuri, Victor?” a producer asked in the interview immediately following Victor and Yuuri’s conversation.

“I had no idea he liked figure skating,” Victor said. “I only wish I had asked which skater he liked best.”

* * *

Victor managed to catch Yuuri alone only once more during the cocktail party, but he occupied himself mostly by playing drinking games with Chris and Phichit, who turned out to be one of the friendliest men Victor had ever met. They all took shots every time one of the wallflowers from earlier came back from talking to Yuuri with a frown.

Eventually, Minako came out and placed a tray with a single rose on it on the table and announced that Yuuri would be giving out the first impressions rose soon. The rose was to be given out to who had made the strongest and most positive impression on Yuuri during their limo exit and the cocktail party—and Victor desperately hoped that it would be him.

The contestants settled on and around the sofa—Victor, Chris, and Phichit didn’t move, having already laid claim to the couch they were on. When Yuuri came back in, Victor met his gaze and winked, delighted when Yuuri blushed in response.

Yuuri picked up the rose. “So, there were a few people tonight that I really considered for this rose. Um, this is the first rose given out, so I know that it’s especially important to choose the right person for it.” He stopped, and surveyed the group of men in the room hanging onto his every word. He took a deep breath. “And there was one man who was like a breath of fresh air. I was a little nervous about meeting so many people at once tonight, and he made me feel at ease right away.”

Right away? Victor had been near the end of the parade of men. 

“Phichit,” Yuuri said. “Will you accept this rose?”

Ah, well. Victor clapped along with the rest of the men as Phichit leapt up, beaming. Victor liked Phichit, and he definitely deserved to stay around. Victor had to suppress a snicker as he remembered the contestant who had been talking to Yuuri earlier.

“I will,” Phichit told Yuuri, taking the rose as Yuuri pressed it into his hands.

They took a short break for another round of interviews before the night’s rose ceremony; Victor supposed he should get used to being asked often about how he was feeling. He was only glad he’d already had a camera-ready smile. 

Finally, the contestants were brought into another room and placed into rows. Yuuri stood in front of the group, tray of roses on a small table beside him. Phichit stood in the back, still smiling over his rose. Victor, at the front, kept his eyes on Yuuri even as more cameras arrived. Victor wasn’t worried about this rose ceremony, or even the next one. Yuuri had asked him to be here. He had responded positively to Victor’s presence. Victor kept on reminding himself of that as the camera crew finished getting into positions around the room.

Yuuri began to call out names. Otabek, Seung-gil, Georgi, Michele, Emil—the names and men began to blur together. Victor perked up when Chris’s name was called, glad that his friend would be on the show for another week.

There were only two roses left. 

“JJ,” Yuuri said. Who on earth was that? Victor watched as the apparent ‘JJ’ stepped forward. The man was wearing a satisfied grin. “Will you accept this rose?” Yuuri asked, and JJ confirmed that he would and then stepped back into his place.

Minako came forward. “Gentlemen, Yuuri. This the final rose tonight.” She clapped a hand on Yuuri’s shoulder, and then smiled out at the anxious contestants. “When you’re ready.” She stepped away, out of view of the cameras once again. 

The last rose was Victor’s; he was sure of it. Still, he held his breath as Yuuri lifted it from the tray. 

Yuuri paused. He looked up, searching through the group of men gathered tonight, all for him. His eyes found Victor’s.

“Victor,” he said. 

Just his name, but it had so much potential.

* * *

The rest of the night felt like a dream, in part due to the alcohol, in part due to the knowledge that he would get to spend time with Yuuri soon, and in part due to the fact that it was three in the morning. There was another cursed round of interviews, and then Yuuri was being whisked away and the contestants were being shown to their rooms. When Victor’s head hit the pillow, he fell into a deep sleep, only rousing when a crew member shook him awake so that he could be present for the first group date announcement. Victor showered, dressed himself, and then nearly skipped downstairs.

Chris raised an eyebrow at him as he entered the room, but obligingly made room on the couch for him. 

“There’s date cards, right? That tell us who’s going on what date?” Victor asked.

As if in answer, Minako entered the room, brandishing a card. “Alright, everyone,” she said. “It’s the first group date! Otabek, will you read the card?”

Otabek, a very serious young man, who looked….familiar, actually, now that Victor thought about it, nodded and stood up, taking the card from Minako. Where had Victor seen this man before?

He didn’t have a lot of time to think about it, because Otabek plowed right into reading the date card. A bunch of names Victor didn’t recognize yet, none of them his own. Truthfully, he was relieved. A group date meant he could see Yuuri sooner, but it also meant that he would be competing for Yuuri’s time, something he was not looking forward to as the show progressed.

Again, he whiled away his time waiting for the second group date announcement with Phichit and Chris. They spent most of their time at the pool, swimming or drinking.

“So why did you decide to audition for the show, Phichit?” Victor asked during a lull in a rather intense conversation about which noodles were best for macaroni and cheese.

Phichit took a long sip of his drink. “Oh,” he said, flashing Victor a grin. “You know. The same reason everyone else is here, I guess! To find love.”

“Yuuri is lovely,” Victor agreed, and Chris laughed.

The next day dawned, again, bright and early. Victor was torn on whether or not he wanted his name to be called for the day’s group date—there was a solo date tomorrow that would grant him more time with Yuuri, but he also didn’t want to sit around for another day.

This time, Phichit read the card gifted by Minako.

“Chris,” he read off first, and then, “Phichit, that’s me. Seung-gil, Otabek, Emil, Michele, Georgi, and Victor.”

“That means JJ gets the solo date,” someone whispered. Victor was still warring with relief and disappointment at the sound of his name.

Phichit held his hand up. “Wait, wait, I’m not done yet, remember? There’s a hint for what the date will be.” Those going on the group date leaned forward eagerly. “It also says, _Let's celebrate love_.”


	3. The Bachelorettes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi everyone! i really wanted to get this chapter out sooner, but college and work are currently kicking my ass. this chapter was also a challenge to write, given how many characters i had to juggle at once. group dates are terrible for all involved.
> 
> thank you so so much to the people who have left kudos, subscribed, bookmarked, or commented. i had no idea whether or not anyone would even be interested in this fic, and i'm happy that there's at least a few people out there enjoying it!

Shivering a little in the chilly night air, Yuuri asked himself—not for the first time—if any of this was worth it.

He and Minako were currently standing outside of a large restaurant that would serve as the location for Yuuri’s second group date. Out of the nineteen men left, eight would be trying to win Yuuri’s attention today. Yuuri pressed a hand over his eyes. He could still feel the remnants of the headache that yesterday’s date had earned him. There had been ten men yesterday, two more than the group now, and Yuuri had felt pulled in a million different directions trying to keep up with them.

“I still can’t believe you didn’t tell me Victor Nikiforov would be here,” he told Minako, who was shivering right alongside him. She didn’t really need to be on set right now; mostly she was there to soothe Yuuri’s nerves, which he was grateful for. “I didn’t even know he watched the show.”

Yuuri still had no plans to ever watch any of the previous season of _The Bachelor_ , but now he kind of wanted to, if only to try and figure out what Victor had found so appealing about him. Had the producers just given him a weirdly good edit? Yuuri didn’t think they’d had enough footage of him acting like a normal human being for that.

“The look on your face was worth it, Yuuri.” Minako, who had known all along that Yuuri was a fan of Victor’s, didn’t even try to act repentant. “They got a few different camera angles of that. Victor Nikiforov, whose skating our Katsuki Yuuri has admired for so long—here to win your heart!”

Yuuri laughed, a sound edged with self-deprecation. “I just wish I had more to impress him with.” If he’d ever met Victor in person, Yuuri had wanted to have something he could be proud of to tell Victor about. 

All Yuuri had now was his unfinished undergraduate degree, some basic dancing skills, and a second run on a reality TV show.

“Yuuri,” Minako said. “Victor is here because he saw something incredible in you. He chose you. Just remember that.”

He didn’t have time to think about Minako’s words. At that moment, a sleek black SUV turned the street corner, and the camera crew called for quiet on the set as they began filming. Yuuri pushed away his tangled emotions and stood up a little straighter. Minako quickly stepped out of view of the cameras, shooting Yuuri one last meaningful look.

The first person to step out of the car was Victor. Without thinking, Yuuri reached up and adjusted his tie. Victor looked—really good. The men on this group date had been instructed to wear formal clothing, and Victor had chosen a black three-piece suit that should have been boring, but that Yuuri couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of. The show didn’t provide clothing for the contestants. Victor had brought this suit with him, maybe thinking that it would appeal to Yuuri. 

Immediately, Yuuri wanted to kick himself for thinking something so ridiculous.

As soon as Yuuri’s gaze met his, Victor’s expression lit up, like there was no one he’d rather see than Yuuri. Hurrying forward, Victor took Yuuri’s hand in his. Yuuri couldn’t decide if he was relieved or disappointed. A lot of contestants opted for hugs right away. On one hand, Yuuri thought that embracing Victor right now might be too overwhelming, but…he cleared his throat, feeling his face go hot.

“Yuuri,” said Victor, cheerful as ever, “it’s so good to see you again.” 

Victor’s hand was warm, especially since Yuuri had been standing outside for a while. His smile was contagious. “It’s good to see you, too. Have you gotten settled in at the house?”

“Oh, yes,” Victor said. “I—” but he was interrupted as more men began to step out of the dark SUV. 

It took a while to greet everyone. As Yuuri had expected, most hugged him; only Victor and Otabek chose to clasp his hand, though Otabek was stiff where Victor was warm. Selfishly, Yuuri looked forward to later in the filming process, when there would be fewer men on each group date and more solo dates.

Once every man was crowded in front of Yuuri on the street, the SUV drove off. Yuuri glanced at the producers for a cue that everyone was ready, and then turned his attention to the contestants. He’d rehearsed his intro speech more times than he could count. Hopefully, he could get it out without stammering in the face of eight expectant stares.

“It’s really great to see you all. I hope you had a chance to rest yesterday after being up so late at the cocktail party,” Yuuri said. “Now, today’s date is a little special—we’re seeing a couple of familiar faces. Last season’s Bachelorette, Sara, and last season’s winner, Mila are having a bachelorette party at this restaurant before their wedding next week. The ten of us will be guests at the party tonight.”

As he spoke, two things happened at once. Seung-gil, who was standing near the back of the group, began to stare intently at the ground. And Michele, in the front, began to look more and more like someone had just told him he would never be happy again.

Yuuri faltered. “Uh…but you won’t just be guests.” He paused, for dramatic effect. The brief silence felt like a lifetime. “You’ll be performers.”

The men exchanged confused glances. Had Yuuri been in their place, he might have been apprehensive too. The concept for this group date wasn’t one that Yuuri would have decided on. Unfortunately, the producers didn’t let Yuuri pick the group dates, only the solo ones. But Mila and Sara had needed promo for their spin-off show’s premiere in a few months, and Yuuri was at least happy to help them out.

As Yuuri led the men into the restaurant, Michele seemed to shake himself out of whatever mood he’d been in. Seung-gil was back to looking impassive. Yuuri couldn’t tell what was going on, but if mentioning Mila and Sara had had such an effect, he worried that the producers were about to get their hands on the kind of drama that they loved.

“Have you met Mila and Sara?” 

Yuuri jumped a little, and when he turned it was to see Victor ambling along beside him, hands in his suit pockets. He looked utterly unconcerned even as the other men murmured to each other about the night’s events.

“Only once,” Yuuri said. “Before they announced that I was the Bachelor, they, um, had us hang out a few times. So people would start speculating. You know, to build excitement.” Yuuri probably shouldn’t be talking about the more fabricated aspects of the show, but Victor had been in the public eye for longer than Yuuri had. He wouldn’t feel disillusioned, right?

Thankfully, Victor smiled. “I see.”

Yuuri found himself rambling nervously. “Um, they were really nice though. They offered to help me out if I had any questions about what it would be like. I’d never watched any of the show, so I didn’t really know what I was getting into. Well, I knew, but I didn’t _know_.”

“You never watched the season you were on?”

“Definitely not,” Yuuri said, more emphatic than he’d meant to.

Victor nodded decisively. Yuuri was curious, but he also had a job to do, and they were just outside of the room where the party would be held. He gave Victor a smile and then turned so that he was facing the other men.

“Everyone ready?” he said. 

For the most part, a chorus of enthusiastic cheers met his query. The aftermath itself was anticlimactic, as there was a brief moment of waiting for two of the cameras to enter the room before them so that they could film the men’s entrance. As the door opened, the sound of a large group of people speaking swelled out. 

“Wow,” Victor said from beside Yuuri. “How many people are here?”

“A lot,” said Yuuri. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to keep calm. 

“Well, I look forward to stealing the spotlight,” Victor said, and a moment later Yuuri felt a hand squeeze his. Surprised, he glanced back at Victor, but Victor had already let him go and was watching something over Yuuri’s shoulder. “I think one of your producers is saying that it’s time to go inside.”

The party was clearly in full swing when the ten of them entered, as they were met by joyous shouts, more than a few of which with an edge of drunkenness. The room itself was a riot of sound and color, large enough to have a stage on the far end and decked out in lights. Multi-colored streamers hung from every surface. Yuuri would probably be finding confetti in his clothes all night.

“Yuuri! It’s so good to see you!” Sara said, seeming to materialize out of nowhere to embrace him. Already overwhelmed by the sheer volume of people around them, Yuuri felt like he had jumped out of his skin, but Sara quickly let him go when she saw who had entered the party with him. “Mickey? What are you doing here?”

Michele’s face was unreadable. “I’m a contestant, of course. Nice party.”

An airy laugh preceded Mila’s arrival. She slung her arm around Sara’s waist, hair a little messy. She was obviously a few drinks in and was holding another; for a moment, Yuuri envied her. “Hello, hello! Welcome, everyone!”

Sara was still in shock over Michele’s presence, but then Seung-gil stepped forward, and the atmosphere grew even more heavy and awkward. The two didn’t exchange words, but they seemed to have an entire conversation judging by the frantic and questioning looks that Sara kept giving Seung-gil.

“You didn’t tell me you were going to be on _The Bachelor_ , Mickey,” Sara finally said. She pinned him with a concerned look.

“You didn’t tell me you were getting married this soon,” Michele replied, tone icy.

“How could I,” said Sara, “when you won’t even talk to my fiancee?”

Yuuri could tell that the tension was building, but he felt helpless to diffuse it. What was even going on here? And would the producers even want him to intervene?

“Could you explain more about what we’re doing here, Yuuri?” Chris asked, pushing his way through the other men to stand at Yuuri’s side. The expression on his face was pointedly innocent. “I know that you said we’re performers, but what are we performing?”

Grateful, Yuuri took the opportunity to launch into an explanation. “Oh, yeah—see the stage over there? Each of you is going to showcase a talent you have. It could be anything, as long as you enjoy it, and as long as you’re willing to do it on a stage in front of a party full of people. If you need any props or materials, let one of the crew members know. You have the next two and a half hours to plan and rehearse. After you all perform, Mila and Sara will pick the best one.” 

“Do we win something?” said Phichit.

Yuuri let his smile go sly. “That’s a secret.”

Victor was looking at him thoughtfully. Otabek, strangely enough, wasn’t looking at Yuuri at all. He had fixed Victor with an intense stare. Yuuri could only hope that whatever was on Otabek’s mind wouldn’t lead to another tense situation unfolding.

The group dispersed, many heading to different rooms in the restaurant to brainstorm and practice. As soon as he was left with Mila and Sara, Yuuri asked, “I’m sorry, but what’s…?”

“What’s going on with me and Mickey and Seung-gil, you mean?” Sara sighed. Mila, who had tilted her head so that it rested against Sara’s, took a long sip from the drink in her hand. “Well, it’s just that when I went on _The Bachelorette_ , I didn’t really…tell him? And he was mad, but then he got over it. And then I went on again without telling him, this time as the Bachelorette. I guess I should’ve learned from the first time.” Sara winced. “He’s never liked Mila, but I think it’s just because he feels like she’s stealing me away.”

Yuuri understood a little better now, and was resigned to the fact that the producers would probably not let him work to keep Michele and Sara apart for the rest of the night. “And Seung-gil?”

“He was actually a contestant on my season,” Sara admitted. “He got pretty far. I didn’t think I’d ever see him again, to be honest. I’m sorry, can we change the subject?”

Of course she didn’t want to talk about stressful things at her and Mila’s own bachelorette party. “I’m sorry,” Yuuri apologized, but she waved it away.

“No, it’s okay. If it was my season I’d want to know what I was in for, too.”

The next few hours were spent mostly leaning against a wall. Occasionally, Mila and Sara would stop by and chat with Yuuri or ask him to dance, but for the most part Yuuri was happy to breathe, try to relax, and take a break from interacting with other people.

* * *

The first person to perform was Emil.

Within these earlier group dates, it was easy to get lost in the shuffle of eight other men. Emil hadn’t had a chance to speak with Yuuri all night, and so Yuuri endeavored to pay extra attention to his performance. On a group date of this type, the only other chance Emil would have to interact with him would be at the cocktail party, if Yuuri chose to have one.

The party guests gathered around the stage, intoxicated and happy and eager to have something to do. Yuuri didn’t envy any of the contestants tonight.

They would come into the room from a door just beside the stage one at a time. When Emil entered the room, his eyes sought out Yuuri immediately. Caught up in grinning at Yuuri, he tripped a bit going up the stage, but caught himself quickly. In his hands he held a few assorted objects: an apple, a couple small beanbags, and two oranges. 

Emil took a bow once he reached the center of the stage and was met with applause. He seemed completely comfortable with the attention, even after his slip-up getting onto the stage. “Hello, my name is Emil, and I’m going to juggle for you all tonight.” An assistant hurried over to stand beside him, and Emil handed most of the items to them, keeping only an apple and an orange.

Juggling the two fruits, Emil called for the assistant to throw items to him at a pace that Yuuri felt was way too fast. Like the rest of the crowd, he got caught up in worrying that Emil would drop one of the objects, but Emil never did. Finally, Emil called for the assistant to begin taking items out of the blurred cycle. Yuuri clapped as Emil finished and took another bow.

Despite having the situation sprung onto him, Emil had seemed to have a lot of fun. Yuuri hoped that the other contestants would also make the best of it and let loose a little.

Next to perform was Georgi, another man who Yuuri hadn’t had the chance to speak to. Georgi had procured a violin from somewhere. The song he played was more depressing than Yuuri felt fit a bachelorette party, but it did make Sara hold Mila a little closer as the two of them struggled not to cry together. Afterwards, Michele entered the room and sang a lilting melody with a surprisingly captivating voice. He didn’t glance at Mila or Sara once. 

Seung-gil performed a mambo dance. His facial expression was blank as the music played, but Yuuri, who enjoyed dancing himself, watched with rapt attention. Seung-gil really was talented—Yuuri would never have expected it from his quiet demeanor. After that was Chris. The memory of his limo exit left Yuuri apprehensive, but all Chris did was recite French poetry in a beautiful cadence, all from memory. Phichit established himself as a favorite during his turn with a story from college that had the crowd, Yuuri included, rolling with laughter. Yuuri was still wiping tears from his eyes when Otabek began his set, which involved his hidden skills as a DJ. A lot of the men had surprised Yuuri tonight.

And then there was only one contestant left.

All of the performances had been great. Yuuri wasn’t sure who Mila and Sara would pick, unless Victor suddenly came up with something that really blew them away. Yuuri’s heart began to beat a little faster.

When Victor came out onto the stage, he was holding a cordless microphone. He soaked up the applause for a few seconds, grinning, and then raised his hand for quiet. A group of musicians exited the door beside the stage and began to set up in front of its base.

Victor’s eyes found Yuuri’s. “I’d like to request Katsuki Yuuri on stage,” he said, and all the air left Yuuri’s lungs.

He looked around wildly, checking for the producers. Were the contestants allowed to include him in their performances? He received a thumbs up in reply; Victor, beaming, held out a hand towards him. The row of people in front of Yuuri parted so that he could step forward and take Victor’s hand. As Victor pulled Yuuri up beside him, someone let out a wolf-whistle. It had sounded suspiciously like it had come from Sara and Mila’s direction.

“Dance with me,” Victor requested, handing off the microphone to a crew member who had run up behind him. He didn’t take his eyes off of Yuuri.

“Yes,” was all Yuuri could say. Dancing with Victor Nikiforov? How could he say no?

Victor pulled him close. The nearness of him was intoxicating. Yuuri hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol all night, but even that couldn’t have made him feel like this, giddy and fuzzy around the edges. He was about to dance with _Victor Nikiforov_.

The musicians began to play. Victor led Yuuri through a rapid tango. Yuuri couldn’t believe that he was keeping up, but somehow it felt like they had done this before. He found himself laughing at Victor’s dramatic flair. Everything narrowed down to Victor’s hands on his waist, the silver glint of Victor’s hair under the lights, and the fluttering rise of happiness in his own gut. Victor was grinning, too. He didn’t stop even as the music came to an end and he and Yuuri froze, breathing hard. Yuuri let out another shaky laugh.

The sound of applause was startling. Yuuri jumped and then moved out of Victor’s arms, turning towards the crowd. The two of them gave a bow, Yuuri more sheepish than Victor.

“Well,” Mila called out after the room was quiet enough again, “the prize for winning was actually going to be a dance with Yuuri, but you’re one step ahead, Victor.”

“I’m not sorry,” Victor told her. He winked at Yuuri.

Mila waved a dismissive hand. Beside her, Sara looked on fondly. “You won anyways, so it doesn’t matter much. Congratulations.”

Yuuri couldn’t believe that Victor had picked up such a minor omission in the rules for performances tonight, and had actually taken a chance and asked Yuuri to join him on stage. If Yuuri had refused, he would have given Victor a very rocky to start to his talent showcase. He could still feel echoes of their dance in his feet. Yuuri hadn’t expected to have fun tonight. He hadn’t expected to feel anything but overstimulated and tired during their time at the party. 

As always, it seemed that Victor was full of surprises.

* * *

The contestants left the party a few minutes after, since they still needed to film Yuuri presenting the night’s group date rose. They’d chosen another restaurant a few blocks down, the lounge having been rented out for filming.

Despite how thrilling the last part of the group date had been, Yuuri was exhausted. Thankfully, the night had worn on too long, and Yuuri only had time for a short conversation with each contestant before he stood in front of them, group date rose in hand. The men were sat together on couches, looking eager but just as tired as Yuuri felt.

“You all managed to surprise me tonight,” Yuuri said. “I know that being put on the spot like that can be rough, but you all took it in stride. I had a lot of fun seeing what you all could do. But there was one person here that I feel like I just have to give this rose to.” A couple of the men began to smile. Everyone knew whose name Yuuri was going to call. “Victor,” he said. Victor leapt up, grinning. “I had so much fun dancing with you tonight. Will you accept this rose?”

“I will,” Victor said, and Yuuri began to feel hope bloom inside of him.

* * *

Could Minako have been right, and Victor was really here for Yuuri? Yuuri had been convinced that any contestant was here only for their personal gain, but now he wasn’t so sure. Victor had seemed so happy, dancing with Yuuri. 

Wavering thoughts plagued him as he got ready for his solo date the next day. He didn’t know much about JJ, but he seemed nice enough, if a little loud. Yuuri had chosen a simple date for today—the two of them would go to a carnival and then dinner together at an outdoor restaurant. JJ greeted him excitedly, but Yuuri’s thoughts distracted him enough that many of their conversations throughout the day felt one-sided. He would have felt more guilty, but JJ didn’t seem to notice.

At dinner, Yuuri pushed his food around his plate. Should he believe that Victor was actually on the show to win Yuuri’s heart? He couldn’t imagine that Victor needed to promote himself, since he was already famous enough among the skating community. 

Yuuri let out a gusty sigh.

“You okay, Yuuri?” JJ asked. He leaned forward in his chair, brow furrowed.

“I’m fine,” Yuuri said quickly. “Just not fond of, um,” he glanced down at what was on his plate, “green beans.”

“Oh, yeah,” JJ laughed. “My girlfriend hates those too.”

The two of them froze.

“Your…what?” Yuuri said slowly. It felt like the entire set was still around them, not even the wind rustling through the flowers that surrounded their table. 

To his credit, JJ didn’t try to lie his way out of anything. “So, I might not have been entirely truthful when I came onto the show. I…well, I auditioned before we started dating, and I got in after we’d started dating, and she said that my music career could use the boost, and,” JJ shrugged. “I came. I’m sorry, Yuuri.”

“It’s fine,” Yuuri told him, numb. JJ would have to leave the show, of course, but Yuuri understood. He had expected this. Right from the start, he’d known that most people here were only looking for their doorway into fame. Even so, he couldn’t fight the hurt that welled up within him.

How could he have been so stupid as to think anyone would be on this show just for him?

* * *

Yuuri told the producers that they could skip the next night’s cocktail party; he had already decided who he was sending home. He could tell that they wanted to argue, but all Yuuri wanted to do was get it over with so he could go back to his hotel room and sleep. Even Minako seemed to sense that Yuuri wasn’t in the mood to talk and left him alone. 

He stood in front of the same type of loose semicircle that the men had been arranged in on the first night. Only half of their attention was on him—many had noticed that JJ had left the mansion right after his solo date, and all they had for answers was speculation. Yuuri let them chatter for a bit as the camera crew got ready.

Victor kept trying to catch his eye. He held his group date rose in one hand, pressed against his heart. Yuuri gazed back steadily, trying to decide when he’d find out why Victor was really here.

The producers signaled Yuuri to start. Clearing his throat, Yuuri fixed his gaze on the tray of roses and plucked the first bloom out of the pile.

He recited names until the concept lost meaning. Out of the fifteen men that Yuuri kept, all eight of the men on his second group date had stayed; he had planned to keep Seung-gil and Michele around anyways, but the producers had also told him in no uncertain terms that the two of them would be staying no matter what. Next week, Yuuri would have to mentally prepare himself for another group date and then two solo dates. One of the solo dates would be with Phichit—he was friendly, kind, and Yuuri was interested in spending more time with him, beyond crowded bachelorette parties.

Yuuri met Victor’s clear blue eyes across the room again. The other date, he decided, he would use to find out the truth.


	4. Rinkside

Two weeks into the show’s filming, Victor felt the lack of his phone like a physical ache.

The pain was less from his phone itself and more from what the phone connected him to—it had been so long since he’d heard Yakov yelling down the line at him. Yuri Plisetsky, one of Yakov’s other skaters, was also fond of yelling over the phone. Victor had gotten into the unfortunate habit of answering his phone while holding it away from his ear. (Helpful when it was Yakov or Yuri, but less helpful when it was his manager, who had a backbone of steel but spoke softly.) Victor understood why phones needed to be left behind, but that didn’t ease his frustration. Yuri and his grandfather were looking after Victor’s dog while he was away, and Victor also wished that he could call now and coo at Makkachin through the phone like he’d done so many times during competitions.

He sighed. The sun had risen ages ago; the show’s crew would come by soon to film Minako handing out the day’s solo date card. Victor tried to focus on his excitement for possibly being chosen instead of his other emotions. If Yuuri picked Victor, where would they go? What would they do? Would Yuuri take him somewhere public, or would it just be the two of them?

Thinking of Yuuri worked to push Victor out of bed and into the shower. He got dressed quickly, heading downstairs towards the kitchen for breakfast. As he passed by one of the living rooms, he overheard a few of the other men talking.

“It doesn’t really matter if you win, does it? I mean, you just have to get far enough. Then you could be the next Bachelor.”

“That’s true,” another man said. “I like Yuuri, but…that makes me feel a lot better about if I don’t get chosen.”

Victor frowned and paused in the middle of the hallway. Was it a good idea to discuss things like that, when the show’s producers were ready to pounce on anything that would create drama? It also sounded plain opportunistic, but Victor guessed that was to be expected on shows like _The Bachelor_. He contemplated stepping in just to tell the men to keep it down next time, but someone else beat him to it.

“You probably shouldn’t talk like that once the cameras are around,” Seung-gil said. “They’ll start to play it up like you’re here for the wrong reasons.”

It was rare for Seung-gil to be around the other men. He preferred his own space, usually out by the pool. Victor left the group of men alone and continued walking through the house until he reached the glass door that framed the pool, and…ah, yes, there was Michele, in Seung-gil’s usual spot. The two of them didn’t seem antagonistic towards each other, but there was definitely a pointed effort not to be in the same room. Victor told himself that it wasn’t his business and went to go get breakfast.

The only other person in the kitchen was Otabek. As Victor made a beeline for the fridge, Otabek finished getting himself a drink from the sink.

“Good morning,” Victor said belatedly, because it was only polite. When he and Otabek were in the same room, he sometimes felt like he was being watched, and the feeling was a little hard to shake off.

“Morning,” Otabek replied. He didn’t attempt to make any more conversation.

While Victor made himself bagels and cream cheese, he fought to think of something to say that would maybe earn more than a short reply from Otabek. Otabek moved around him wordlessly, pulled a bag of grapes from the fridge, and then returned to his glass of water with food in tow. Victor could talk about the upcoming date, the show, their respective jobs (what did Otabek do, anyway)—

Otabek was staring at him again.

“This might be a weird question,” said Victor, “but do I know you from somewhere?”

Otabek took a calm sip of water. “We’ve never met,” he said.

Was Victor imagining things? He knew he didn’t always have the best memory, but… “Ah, I’m sorry, then. You just seemed familiar.”

Before Otabek had the chance to respond, or not respond, Phichit turned the corner and came into the kitchen. “Hello, hello! Victor, please tell me there’s more bagels.”

Victor laughed and reached behind himself, opening a cabinet to reveal more bags of bagels than he could count. “Don’t even worry about that.”

Phichit dug into the cabinet with gusto, still excited over his date with Yuuri the previous day. Apparently they’d driven race cars—except, you know, they weren’t actually the ones driving, because that was extremely dangerous. But race cars were driven. “Yuuri was absolutely terrified,” Phichit said, “but he was trying to act all like, TV-ready and stuff. It was great. I guess he thought I would like something exciting?”

Eventually the conversation about Phichit’s solo date lead to Phichit considering Otabek with a gleam in his eye. “Hey,” he said, “I bet you can’t throw a grape into my mouth from across the room.”

Victor expected Otabek to say no, but that was how the show’s crew found them later, grapes strewn around the room. Victor supposed he could have been trapped in a house for weeks on end with worse people.

* * *

Yuuri chose Victor.

He chose Victor, and when Victor climbed out the standard black SUV, Victor found himself in front of a _roller skating rink_. Yuuri was adorable.

The rink was pretty small, but Victor knew that it would be rented out and completely empty except for the two of them. Inside it was dark, and multi-colored spotlights swirled around the open space. They gave the room a surreal feeling. Music, softer than would usually be playing in a place like this, floated from speakers overhead. Victor didn’t notice Yuuri by the skate rental until Yuuri called out to him.

“Victor, these are your size, right?”

As he came closer, Victor was relieved to find that the music wasn’t so loud that he and Yuuri couldn’t have a conversation at normal volume. Yuuri was holding a pair of skates in front of himself almost protectively. “Let’s see,” Victor said, trying to push away the quivering worry that he was the one who had made Yuuri look so defensive. He took the skates from Yuuri’s hands and checked the sizing. “Ah, yes, these should fit me.” He hesitated. “Is everything okay, Yuuri?”

“I’m fine,” Yuuri said, turning around to grab his own skates off of the counter. “It’s good to see you again.”

Relieved, Victor headed over to a bench to take off his shoes, Yuuri close behind him. Once they were both seated, he gave Yuuri a warm smile. “I’m glad to see you too.”

Yuuri was strangely quiet as they put on their skates. Victor wished that he knew what Yuuri was thinking. Why did the mood feel so off? Hadn’t they both had fun the last time they’d seen each other? Or was something else going on that didn’t involve Victor at all? If the last option was true, Victor wasn’t sure if it was his business to ask, so he kept silent, following Yuuri over to the rink once they were both ready. They both did their best to ignore the cameras trailing after them.

The brown wood gleamed under the lights. Yuuri slid onto the rink, smooth as anything. “You’ll have to forgive me for not being as good at skating as you are,” Yuuri said, facing Victor. He seemed nervous, dark brows furrowed.

“Oh, it’s—” _fine_ , was what Victor had wanted to say.

Except just then he had put one foot onto the rink, slipped, and fallen right on his ass.

Yuuri gaped down at him. Victor stared back, still in shock. He’d fallen so hard that he could feel the bruises already. Around them, the music played on, the rink’s multi-colored lights dancing. 

“How…” Yuuri began to laugh helplessly, hunching over and holding onto the side of the rink. “How are you…”

“No, no, wait,” Victor said, grabbing onto the side of the rink as well and hoisting himself up. “I’ve never been roller skating, I just have to get used to it, let me—” He fell again, earning himself another round of bruises. Yuuri covered his mouth and turned his face away. Though he should have felt embarrassed, Victor couldn’t help but laugh too, even though the entire debacle was definitely being caught on camera. 

Yuuri faced him again and held out his hand. “Here,” he said. “I’ll help you.”

Once Victor was up, Yuuri took his other hand and began to skate backwards alongside the rink’s wall, holding Victor steady. The music in the rink shifted to something bouncing and cheerful. Victor let himself sway in time to the music. “Yuuri, I love this song! Let’s dance.”

“Wait, wait!” Yuuri hadn’t stopped smiling since Victor had fallen. “Victor, you’ll fall again.”

“No, really, I think I’ve got it—” 

His foot slipped backwards. Yuuri yelped and yanked him upright, pulling him closer in the process. “Please, please just follow my lead,” he said. “I really thought this would be fine, I’m so sorry.” 

“How are you so good at this?” Victor asked, a little desperately.

Yuuri squeezed his hands. “I don’t know, I guess I just like skating.” He laughed and ducked his head. “Although, I guess if that was all it took…”

“Come on, I’ve already improved!” Victor protested, grinning. Yuuri, as if to prove that Victor had not, spun them in a little circle before carrying on their journey around the edges of the rink. Victor clung on more tightly. “You said on the first night that you liked figure skating—does that mean you figure skate, as well?”

“I, um, I try. I’m definitely an amateur, though.”

“Yuuri!” said Victor, delighted. “I would’ve loved to see that. You should’ve taken us to an ice skating rink.” 

The look that Yuuri leveled him with was severe. “I couldn’t do that! It’d be like taking someone on a date to their workplace.”

“I’m sure being with you would make it new and exciting,” Victor said, just to watch Yuuri blush under the rink’s multi-colored lights. He was not disappointed.

Yuuri continued to skate backwards, tugging Victor along. They went slowly enough that every moment could be savored. Victor could feel Yuuri watching him as Victor stared down at their joined hands. It would have been nice to impress Yuuri, yes—but in many ways this was better. He’d made Yuuri laugh, and now Yuuri was less self-conscious around him. 

“Victor,” said Yuuri, within a pause between songs. “Why did you come onto the show?”

Was Yuuri testing him? Victor already knew that Yuuri wanted a fresh start. He had already dedicated himself to wooing Yuuri from square one. Was Yuuri seeing if Victor, in his eagerness, would bring up the wedding after-party that he’d rather leave unacknowledged? Victor wanted to be honest with Yuuri, to tell him that Yuuri had caught and held his interest at that after-party, but he supposed a few left out details would be fine. The emotions were still the same. “I…well, I’m not sure if you knew this, but recently I’ve been losing my inspiration. For skating.” Victor let out a frustrated sigh. “When I saw you, I’ll admit that I didn’t think much at first. I was stuck in my own head, then. But as I kept watching, something about you drew me in, and I couldn’t look away. The way you dance, it’s like…there’s a soundtrack that only I can hear. I knew I had to get to know you, if nothing else. It felt like if I knew you, I’d never have to work to choreograph something amazing ever again. The spark would just be there.”

Yuuri had stopped skating, wide eyes intent on Victor’s. “Wow,” he said. He spoke so softly that the music, as low a volume as it was, almost drowned him out.

Victor was glad that his hands weren’t free to fidget; he wasn’t used to being so open about what he was feeling, and he hoped that he hadn’t crossed any lines that weren’t ready to be crossed. “Can I ask what you’re thinking, Yuuri?”

“You’ve just inspired me so much,” Yuuri said, “it feels a little strange to all of a sudden be inspiring you.”

“I’ve inspired you?”

For a long moment, Yuuri was quiet. When he spoke, he wasn’t looking at Victor. His gaze was distant over the rink. “More than you know. Your skating was the first thing I noticed about you, because it was so beautiful. But you were also always…so open, about being trans. When I was younger, seeing you be so successful and happy, I thought…you know, I could get there, too. I owe you a lot.”

Warmth rose in Victor’s cheeks. He stroked his thumb over the back of Yuuri’s hand, wishing he could pull Yuuri close and just—hold him. “I had no idea I had done all that for you, Yuuri. I’m glad I was a source of support for you, even if I didn’t know it. I wish I could say that it was because I wanted to help people, but really, it was because I knew someone would find out eventually. I just wanted to be the one to tell people. I wanted to be the one to put a label on me.”

“You did it for yourself, but you helped me too,” Yuuri said, turning back towards him. He quirked a smile at Victor. “We both won.”

Victor wasn’t known for his stellar self-control, and he wasn’t about to start pushing his own limits now. “Is it okay if I hug you?” he asked, not bothering to hide how breathless Yuuri made him feel.

“Only if you keep one hand on the wall,” Yuuri joked. Obligingly, Victor made sure that he wouldn’t fall in the process of embracing Yuuri, and then pulled Yuuri close. It was startling how small Yuuri was—he was only a few inches shorter than Victor, but his compact frame left Victor wishing he could bundle Yuuri up and protect him from everything. Yuuri leaned his head on Victor’s shoulder. “Thank you,” he said. “I feel a lot better.”

“I am pretty good at giving hugs,” Victor agreed. 

“No, that’s not—I meant what you…never mind,” Yuuri said, and then put his arms around Victor’s waist.

Victor hummed contentedly, letting the subject drop. Would the producers complain, if the only footage they got for the rest of the season was this moment? He didn’t want to let Yuuri go, but as time ticked by, he felt the presence of cameras more and more keenly. The music that was playing overhead was a mix of dreamy and peppy, a combination Victor found intriguing. 

“I really like this song,” Victor said, reluctantly releasing Yuuri. “Do you know it?”

Yuuri reached up and smoothed his own hair back into place. “No, but I really like it too,” he said. When Victor started to shimmy in place again, he let out of huff of laughter and gave up, joining in. “It’s fun, but please, please don’t fall.”

“If I only I had my phone,” Victor lamented, “I could look it up.”

“Tonight I’ll have one of the producers look it up, and I’ll tell you the title next time we see each other,” Yuuri promised. When Victor leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek in thanks, it was as if the stars themselves had come to rest in Yuuri’s smile.

Victor didn’t fall onto the rink again, but he thought, perhaps, that he had fallen in enough other ways to count.

* * *

After skating came dinner. Their destination was about a half hour’s drive away from the roller skating rink, and that was all Yuuri would say as they climbed into the SUV together—he was adamant about surprising Victor. As their driver sped away, Victor left his hand palm up on the middle seat, aiming for casual. Eventually, Yuuri’s hand moved to cover his own, and Victor stared out of the window and wondered if this was what heaven felt like.

The drive went by fast. He, Yuuri, and by extension the entire show’s camera crew pulled up to a large, ornate building as one fleet of cars. After they finishing prepping to film, Victor and Yuuri were allowed to exit the car and walk up towards the building. 

“Well, whatever this place is for, it’s certainly fancy,” Victor said. “Is it a theater?”

It was lit in gold, towering white columns carved with animals and topped with a pediment depicting a host of mythical creatures. Victor wished he could get a closer look, but it was nighttime now, and he didn’t want to risk angering the producers by stopping to stare. 

“You’ll see,” said Yuuri. Mysterious, intriguing, wonderful.

The building boasted two white double doors outlined in deep red. Yuuri pulled one open and held the door for Victor. As they went inside Victor examined the main hallway; it was elegant, made up of white walls and gilded furniture. A chandelier hung from the center, drawing Victor’s eye down towards another large door at the end of the hallway. Yuuri led him farther in, towards that door. 

When they entered the ballroom, Victor could have shivered with happiness.

It was like something out of a film. Dark curtains hung from the windows, arches above them leading up to a ceiling painted in clouds of soft green and white. In the middle of the room, a piano sat waiting, accompanied by a few empty music stands. A door in the far end of the room opened up to a small balcony. The ballroom’s brown floor lay in a wide expanse before them, full of the night’s possibilities.

“Wow,” he breathed. “Yuuri, it’s beautiful.”

“I’ve been here a couple times,” said Yuuri, looking pleased. “Since we’ve had so much fun dancing in the past, I figured…”

“You want to dance with me again?” Victor asked, grinning, already knowing the answer but craving it all the same. 

“Of course I want to dance with you,” Yuuri said. “But first—we should probably eat.”

Eating on _The Bachelor_ turned out to be more of an ordeal than Victor had thought it would be. A table for two was set up on the balcony, plates of food already laid out for them, but as soon as Victor sat down and picked up a fork Yuuri stopped him. 

“What’s wrong?” Victor asked.

“I’m sorry, I should have told you. They probably want some shots of us talking first, before we eat.”

Victor looked down at his plate, and then back at Yuuri. It took a conscious effort to ignore the crew, who he also wanted to stare at incredulously. “They want shots of us just…sitting in front of our food?”

“Yes,” Yuuri said, face carefully blank, like he was trying not to laugh.

“Alright, then,” Victor said. He put his fork down. “Let’s talk.”

Being instructed to have a conversation could never be anything but awkward, at first, but eventually Yuuri and Victor stumbled onto subjects that stole their attention—figure skating, dancing, their shared love of dogs (though Yuuri shifted topics from that quickly), family.

“I have a sister,” Yuuri said. “She’s basically the reason I’m on this show in the first place. We get along pretty well, I think.”

Victor sighed wistfully. “I always wanted a sibling, but I’m an only child. If only Yakov had kids. Of course, Yuri is sort of like family now too. Although hopefully he won’t watch this show. He’d kill me if he heard me saying that.” Through his amusement, it took a moment for Victor to realize why Yuuri seemed confused. “Ah—a different Yuri. Yuri Plisetsky. He’s another figure skater that Yakov coaches.”

“Right, right,” Yuuri said. “He’s making his senior debut soon, isn’t he?”

“He is, yes! He’s actually angry at me for not coming back to compete against him. Probably thinks that I’m chickening out, or something.” Victor laughed, but Yuuri was beginning to look a little ill, like maybe he thought Victor not competing was his fault. Victor leapt to change the subject. “Yuuri, I’m sorry, but I don’t know what will happen if I keep resisting the food in front of me. Will the producers kick me off the show?”

Thankfully, his efforts broke a bit of the building tension. Yuuri and Victor were finally given the go-ahead, as it seemed the producers felt they had enough footage to put together into something compelling for viewers. They talked sparingly as they ate, happy to enjoy the scenery, the food, and the company.

After the meal was done, they stood and went to the edge of the balcony to look out over the city’s lights. The building was up on a hill, elevating the view into something spectacular. A cool breeze drifted over them. Yuuri stepped a little closer to Victor and covered a yawn, gaze sleepy. Victor felt a kind of peace he had always taken for granted before his rise to figure skating fame. “You can lean on me, if you’re tired,” he said, wanting it so bad that his forcibly joking tone of voice was a little harder to pull off than usual. He was just—so calm. He wanted to be calm with Yuuri.

Yuuri tipped to the side and rested his head on Victor’s shoulder. He let Victor wrap an arm around him without complaint, closing his eyes. “We should probably dance soon,” he said. “They hired live musicians for us.”

“In a minute,” Victor promised.

Ten minutes later, a producer coughed pointedly, the first sound any of the crew had made all day. Yuuri pulled away from Victor with a wry smile. One of the crew members hurried over and placed a tray with a single rose in front of it on their table. Victor had forgotten about this part, but he obeyed without fear as Yuuri motioned for him to sit back down. He trusted his own perceptions; this date had gone well.

“Today has been unbelievable. I’ve had so much fun, and I’ve really enjoyed learning more about you. Especially that you can’t roller skate at all,” Yuuri teased, and Victor laughed. “I’ve loved getting to know the person who’s been an inspiration to me for so long, and I can’t wait to learn more. Victor, will you accept this rose?”

“Yes,” Victor said, and took it when Yuuri offered. A second later, it lay forgotten on the table as Yuuri took Victor’s hand and pulled him out of his seat.

“You know how to waltz, right?” he asked, leading Victor back into the ballroom. The piano was now occupied, and a few other musicians stood in front of the stands beside it. Victor didn’t know if he’d ever get used to how people and things just _appeared_ on this show.

In response to Yuuri’s question, Victor placed a hand over his heart, affecting an offended expression. “Yuuri, of course I know how to waltz.”

“Alright, just checking,” Yuuri said. He pulled them into position, but before the music could start, Victor shook his head and adjusted them.

“You lead,” he told Yuuri.

Yuuri raised an eyebrow. “Even though I’m shorter?”

Victor snorted; oh, Yuuri could _definitely_ lead even though he was shorter, if the wedding after-party had proved anything. “I’m sure you’ll manage.”

It felt like they danced for hours; when they got tired enough that they began to just sway to the music, holding each other, no one complained. Over Yuuri’s shoulder, Victor could see one of the producers looking at her watch, which probably meant that their time together was winding to an end. Could Victor even handle another week waiting to see Yuuri again?

“I’m so glad I can be here with you,” he told Yuuri, wanting him to at least know that. 

They slowed to a stop. When Yuuri replied, his voice was muffled against the fabric of Victor’s jacket. “Okay,” he said. “I believe you.”

* * *

Later that night, back at the mansion, Victor flopped back onto his bed with a sigh.

Yuuri was different than Victor had imagined. He was nervous around crowds, he was painfully self-conscious at times, he sometimes seemed to hold himself back from speaking the things that he wanted said. But he was still the man that had swept Victor off his feet. He loved dogs, he cared for his family, he was modest, he loved surprises, he had a stunning smile. All of the parts of Yuuri that Victor hadn’t known about were parts of the man that had caught Victor’s attention; when Victor looked at the more complete image of Yuuri he was still piecing together, nothing he saw turned him away.

There came a timid knock on his door. Thinking it might be Chris, Victor opened it without thinking, and was instead met with what looked like a high school student, hair dyed blonde with a tuft of red at the top.

“H-Hello!” his visitor said. He thrust a slip of paper into Victor’s hands. “If you’re going to write back, please hurry!”

Victor stared at him. “I’m sorry, who are you?”

“I’m Minami, I work on the show. Please hurry up, I should really not be here right now.”

“So…why are you here?” Victor asked slowly.

“Because Yuuri asked me to come, of course!” Minami said, a little too loudly. Victor ushered him into his room and closed the door. Unfolding the piece of paper, he found a note reading only: _The song was BRCLNA, by Sinclair. Have a good night_. It was the same handwriting that was on all the date cards.

“Hold on,” Victor said, diving for his suitcase. He had to have packed a pen and paper, right? For God’s sake, he wasn’t going to have his phone for weeks, of course he had something. Minami waited anxiously as Victor unearthed a Sudoku book and a pen. “Wait, don’t go anywhere—”

“I’m not, please hurry—”

Victor ripped out a single page from the Sudoku book and scribbled out a message on the back of it. He handed it over to Minami, who barely glanced at him before breezing out of his room again. Once the door was shut, Victor collapsed back onto his bed, staring up at the ceiling.

_You too,_ he had written. _I look forward to the next time we meet._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love writing this corny fic so much lol. thank you again to everyone who has liked, subscribed, commented, or left kudos. you are the wind beneath my wings ❤ 
> 
> in case anyone wants to chat, please free to check out my [twitter](https://twitter.com/lenionice)!


	5. Win Some, Lose Some

At the next rose ceremony, Yuuri knew exactly who he was going to keep.

Victor, Phichit, and Chris already had roses—Victor and Phichit from their solo dates, and Chris from the one group date Yuuri had been on that week. Yuuri was glad that he taken the time to talk to Victor. He still didn’t completely understand why Victor would be interested in him, of all people, but Victor had at least seemed sincere on their date. When Yuuri was 15 and still trying to summon up the courage to talk to his parents about hormone replacement therapy, he’d had an elaborate fantasy in which Victor somehow moved to Hasetsu; Victor would become Yuuri’s friend, build up his confidence, until Yuuri had no reservations about asking his parents for what he wanted. The feather-light way Victor had made him feel on their date was similar to the emotions he’d longed for as a kid, although back then he felt only teenage admiration for Victor. Victor was just as inspiring in person as he was on screen, and he was _real_ , which made it even better. Yuuri hadn’t realized the kind of impossible pedestal he’d been holding Victor on until he’d seen Victor falling on a roller skating rink. His handwriting on the notes they’d continued to exchange was sloppy. Victor, like anyone else, was not perfect. 

Yuuri never had taken the initiative and talked to his parents about HRT, feeling too much like he was fighting alone. HRT was expensive, as was top surgery, and Yuuri hadn’t wanted to put that burden on his parents. But his parents had found out anyway, after Yuuri had accidentally left a tab open on the family’s computer. They had been gentle, and understanding, and everything Yuuri hadn’t dared to hope they might be.

Much the same way that being with his family felt effortless, Yuuri appreciated the time that he had spent with Phichit. Phichit was upbeat, daring when Yuuri felt apprehensive, and yet there was a depth to him that Yuuri found compelling. Phichit had quickly understood Yuuri’s boundaries and respected them. He’d spoken, with a far off look in his eyes, of his own aspirations as a nature photographer. Yuuri felt relaxed with him in a way that he didn’t around many of the other contestants.

One of these other contestants was Chris. Yuuri still couldn’t get a read on Chris. He’d made a strong first impression—to put it lightly—and there was sometimes a sensual edge to his words that Yuuri didn’t know how to respond to. He hadn’t had a lot of alone time with Chris, but whenever things got awkward on group dates Chris seemed to read Yuuri’s mood and descend, like some sort of angel that enjoyed small talk, to smooth things over.

From the rest of the pack, Yuuri chose Georgi, Otabek, Emil, Michele, and Seung-gil. 

Going from fifteen to eight people was a huge leap, but already Yuuri felt like he had more room to breathe. If Yuuri was being completely honest, he had no idea which of the remaining contestants might not be making it much further in the show. Georgi was kind, but a little too intense; Emil could sometimes be the same way, though his intensity stemmed from his eagerness to please. Yuuri still felt like he didn’t know anything about Otabek, who often seemed to glance between Victor and Yuuri as if he were watching an extremely slow tennis match. Michele was polite but withdrawn, and Seung-gil…Yuuri didn’t even know what he thought of Seung-gil.

All he could do was wait for next week’s dates.

* * *

Supposedly, Yuuri had a day of rest before they would begin filming again. In reality the day was spent watching the ocean from his plane seat, accidentally sleeping through the in-flight meal service, and worrying in cyclical thought patterns about what he was going to do with his life once the show was over. It was more of a relief than Yuuri could put into words when the plane touched down again.

The next stage of filming for _The Bachelor _would take place in Paris, France.__

Yuuri felt that going to a place sometimes known as “The City of Love” was a little too on the nose, but he had never been to France, and was looking forward to experiencing something new. He knew that the contestants would feel refreshed as well, leaving behind the United States for now. Yuuri had no idea where the producers’ vision would take the show after France.

Despite the positive thoughts he tried to cling to, he couldn’t shake off his anxiety about his next date. He spent the first night in France sleeping in fits and starts. In retrospect, asking Minako for advice on where to take Chris on a one on one had probably been a mistake—Yuuri felt embarrassed already, picturing the excessive luxury of the date, which mostly involved lounging around all day. He had thought Minako might suggest a date specific to Paris, but she’d instead gone right for the well-worn combination of picking a contestant up in a helicopter, spending the day in a hot tub on a yacht, and then eating dinner at a fancy restaurant. 

“The viewers expect it, Yuuri,” she’d said. “The people who drafted Chris for their fantasy league will be thrilled.”

Yuuri hadn’t been aware that there was a fantasy league for _The Bachelor_. Unable to think of something better, he’d let the producers make the necessary arrangements.

The morning of the solo date, looking at Chris’s raised eyebrows through the clear window beside him, Yuuri wished that the helicopter would just keep descending and the ground would swallow him whole. Chris and Yuuri didn’t speak until Chris had gotten buckled into the seat next to him. As Chris adjusted the headset that would allow them to chat, Yuuri said, “Good morning,” and prayed that he’d been loud enough to be heard over the whirring blades. 

Giving him a smile, Chris cleared his throat. “Ah, is mine working?”

Yuuri nodded, and Chris flashed him a thumbs up. As the helicopter rose, Yuuri searched for something to say. “Have you ever been in a helicopter before?”

Chris’s dyed blonde hair was a little tousled; he reached up and began adjusting it, eyes fixed on the ocean’s slow approach. The date today would be taking place at the Cote d’ Azur, a popular spot for private yachts. While the rest of the contestants were still in Paris, Chris had been flown separately to the Nice Cote d’ Azur airport so that he could be picked up close to their destination. Yuuri wondered if Chris had tried to figure out what they would be doing, or if he had decided to handle events as they came.

“No, this is my first time,” Chris replied. He let his hand fall from his hair, landing very near to where Yuuri’s hand was resting on the helicopter seat. Had he done that on purpose? Yuuri felt like he was going to break out into a cold sweat at any moment.

After that exchange, the noise of the helicopter made any further attempts at conversation seem pointless. Yuuri commented once on how beautiful the scenery was, Chris leaned over his shoulder to see it, and that was their only interaction before the helicopter landed and Chris and Yuuri climbed out, ready to board the yacht waiting for them. Again, Chris only raised his eyebrows at the spectacle. Yuuri wished that he could tell whether that was positive or negative. _Some_ insight would have been helpful, especially when they were shown to the hot tub on the top deck.

Yuuri hoped that the cameras weren’t focusing in on how red his face was; he tried to push aside his embarrassment. “They did tell you to bring a swimsuit, right?” he tried to joke, but it only sounded as worried as he felt. 

“Yes, one second,” Chris said, and began to strip off his clothing to reveal the tiny black speedo he was wearing underneath. The ease at which he removed clothing brought Yuuri right back to the first night, feeling frozen as he watched Chris’s limo exit. Oh, God. How was Yuuri going to get through the day? Why had he chosen Chris for this solo date?

Yuuri, highly aware that this scene was going to be television, took a deep breath. He stripped down to his swim trunks and got into the hot tub.

The warm water was stifling on Yuuri’s already anxious state of being. The jets were off, since the noise would interfere with recording their conversations. Already, someone had left two raspberry martinis on a small table next to the tub. Yuuri reached over and took both as Chris climbed in after him. The drinks were still ice cold—they’d probably been set out right before Chris and Yuuri’s arrival. 

Chris accepted one of the drinks when Yuuri offered it to him. A moment passed, and then they each took a sip of their respective martinis. The yacht began to move away from the beach, towards deeper waters. Yuuri entertained a brief fantasy of jumping overboard and swimming back to land.

“This is certainly fancy. I imagine not a lot of people get to do this,” Chris said. The sound of roaring waves undercut his words. 

Yuuri realized a beat too late that he should have responded. “Ah—yes, it’s also a little more luxurious than I’m used to.” He hesitated. “I would think that being an international athlete would get you used to this kind of thing, though?”

Chris laughed. “I’d been told that you’re a figure skating fan. It’s true that I’ve done many things that others haven’t, but being a figure skater is both busy and expensive. Now that I’m retired, I imagine I’ll have the free time to treat myself, if not the money.”

“So it’s true that you’ve retired,” Yuuri said. He felt a wave of sadness go through him. Victor hadn’t retired, but Yuuri knew enough to realize that his prospects for returning to competition weren’t looking promising. And now Chris was here, his career freshly ended. “What are you going to do after this?”

“Truthfully, I don’t know,” Chris replied. His gaze grew distant. He took a long sip of his drink. “I have no idea at all.”

Yuuri had overstepped. “I see,” he said, and didn’t push any further.

At his halting tone of voice, Chris seemed to come back to the conversation. He gave Yuuri a long, considering look, and then sat up and leaned towards Yuuri. It was so sudden that Yuuri jumped.

“I feel like you’re still nervous around me,” Chris said, “and I’d like to apologize.”

What? Apologize? “You don’t have to do that,” Yuuri protested. It was his own fault he was an anxious mess. Just like every contestant who signed up for the show knew what they were getting themselves into—awkward group dates, possible humiliation, their words being cut and edited to fit the producers’ narrative—Yuuri, too, had known what he was signing up for. In all honesty, his experience so far had been tame. Yuuri had been bracing himself for a lot more kissing, for one thing.

“No, no,” Chris sighed. He placed his martini back onto the little table, and then continued, “I was talking to Victor about this, on the first night. There have been a lot of ridiculous limo exits on the show. I had meant mine as joke, assuming that you would know that. I feel that all it did was make you think you had to second guess everything I did and said to you, thinking I was making moves I wasn’t. I want to apologize.”

Yuuri didn’t know what to say. He still didn’t think that Chris had anything to be sorry about, but it was a relief, to hear Chris explain himself a bit. The explanation certainly cast Chris’s behavior in a new light. Yuuri realized that he might have hurt Chris’s feelings, treating him like a bomb about to go off.

“I’m sorry, too,” he said. “For not just telling you when I felt uncomfortable.”

Chris waved a hand dismissively. “Water under the bridge. It’s hard to speak up about these things. I just have to say, if I’m making a move on you, you’ll know.” He leaned back against the edge of the tub and winked, drawing attention to his luxurious eyelashes. “I’m not known for my subtlety.” 

Yuuri smiled and mimicked his posture, the side of the tub cool against his bare back. “You always wink?”

Another flutter of eyelashes. “Always. It’s my curse.”

Conversation began to come easier. Chris finished his raspberry martini and asked for another; Yuuri continued to sip steadily at his first. The yacht reached its destination and stopped, long stretches of sea on all sides. Eventually, Yuuri felt comfortable enough to bring up a topic he’d been holding onto for a while.

“So you’re close with Victor?” Yuuri asked. He busied himself examining the hot tub’s jet controls, despite knowing that he wouldn’t be able to turn any of them on.

“Very,” Chris confirmed. “We’ve seen the best and the worst of each other. When I was just starting out figure skating, he was my main inspiration.”

“Me too,” Yuuri said, encouraged that he and Chris had something in common. “I mean—I didn’t start competitive figure skating. But he was a big inspiration to me in other ways.”

“You never wanted to try competing?”

Not if he’d needed his parents to pay for HRT. He couldn’t have asked for that, coaching fees, travel expenses, and equipment too. The onsen was successful, but not _that_ successful. “Too expensive,” was all Yuuri said.

“Mmm. I’m sorry to hear that. Your dancing on the ice would have been quite a sight.” Chris looked out towards the ocean. “Would it be possible for us to swim for a bit?”

Thrown by the quick change of subject, Yuuri glanced towards the producers, who gave him a thumbs up. He turned back to Chris. “Yes, but we might not want to go for too long. The sound crew can’t reach us out there, and we can’t bring mics into the water.” While Yuuri was sure that the producers would appreciate the extra activity to cut into the show, what they wanted overall was conversation and drama to build into their narrative. Selfishly, Yuuri was glad that Chris had suggested it—it would be a nice break to be able to talk to someone without having to also be aware of the sound crew, waiting. 

They shuffled down the ladder and into the water, swimming away from the yacht. Yuuri fought to suppress a shiver.

“Yikes, it’s colder than I thought it would be,” Yuuri laughed.

On the yacht, the sound crew had evidently taken this time as a break—many of them were sitting down, having rested their equipment against various parts of the boat. Chris turned to Yuuri, wearing the widest grin Yuuri had seen him with yet.

“What?” Yuuri asked, feeling a little defensive. Had he done something embarrassing?

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed you and Victor exchanging love notes,” Chris said. Yuuri froze, and then saw with relief that the twist of Chris’s mouth was amused, not angry.

Yuuri wanted to protest, only that was exactly what they were. He and Victor were on a dating show. Yuuri was interested in Victor, in a way that Yuuri was still trying to sort out but definitely wasn’t platonic. The night before the cast and crew had packed up and flown over to Paris, Victor had sent Yuuri a note that read, _Do you have any other crew members you could send? Poor Minami looks like he’s going to have a heart attack every time he sneaks in._ Yuuri, looking at Minami’s eager and yet trembling smile, had been inclined to agree. 

He’d sent Leo de la Iglesia, one of the camera crew’s assistants. _How’s this one?_ he’d written.

_Not as cute as you._ Victor’s reply had come with a small, lopsided heart drawn next to it. Yuuri had that note, and all the ones before it, carefully hidden amongst his luggage.

No, Yuuri really couldn’t deny the descriptor of “love notes”.

“Are you going to say anything?” he asked. He needed to know where Chris stood. Chris was Victor’s friend, and he was kind, but Yuuri needed to ask outright.

“Can I be honest with you?” Chris said. “I think you’re gorgeous, and maybe I would be going for you if I wasn’t here for Victor. No one is as gone on you as Victor is. I came here to look after him. I don’t know if this means you’ll kick me off the show, but I want to assure you that I’m going to continue to look after Victor’s best interests. Which, it seems, now coincide with yours. So no, I won’t tell anyone.”

This was the second time Yuuri had found out a contestant wasn’t there for him—but rather than trying to promote himself, Chris was on the show out of concern for a friend. Yuuri wasn’t hurt by the reveal. That small difference meant the world.

“Thank you,” Yuuri said. “We’re—I’m being careful. I trust anybody I send.”

“Good,” Chris nodded. “I wouldn’t want Victor to get hurt. If he gets kicked off the show, he’s going to have to watch from the sidelines as you choose someone else. Which…if you decide you don’t want to choose him, that’s your decision, but if the producers have him leave he won’t be able to do a thing about it.”

“I’ll be careful,” Yuuri said, firm. 

They swam, they returned to the yacht, they eventually went to dinner. Chris, still looking surprised after Yuuri had given him a rose, ordered for the two of them in smooth French. Yuuri’s mind kept flashing Chris’s words at him like a glowing neon sign.

_No one is as gone on you as Victor is._

* * *

The next day Minako announced that he would be going on a two on one date with Michele and Seung-gil. The way she said it, like Yuuri should be surprised at all, had Yuuri letting a gusty sigh. Why else would the producers have insisted he keep two men who had obvious reasons to dislike each other? He wrote out their date card, had his makeup artist fuss over him for an hour, and then was whisked away in a car to go pick both men up.

They would be going to the Louvre. Yuuri wasn’t sure how the date would go; both men had strengths here, as Seung-gil worked as a museum curator in Korea and Michele had been known to dabble in painting. Yuuri had his doubts about both of them—which one he kept around would really depend on how the two on one went.

Both men greeted him politely when they got into the car with him, but aside from that, no one made any attempt at conversation. Did they even want to be here?

Yuuri could only hope that date would only start out awkward and end comfortably, as had his other dates.

The museum felt eerie without any other people in it. Yuuri had never been to the Louvre before, but he was sure that voices wouldn’t echo through its walls so strangely if there were crowds. Yuuri was interested in the 3DS tour guides that were advertised as they entered the building—but of course, wearing a headset would discourage he, Michele, and Seung-gil from talking to each other. Not that there was much discussion going on.

It never got less awkward. Yuuri made stumbling attempts at conversation, but it was difficult when both of his dates were so resistant to any part of the process. On group dates, their behavior had gone unnoticed, swept behind the exuberance of the other men. Now it was noticeable to the point where Yuuri began to grow frustrated.

Just as he thought this Seung-gil moved to stand beside him, and said, “This is one of my favorite exhibits.”

The three of them had been spread around ‘A Body in Movement: Dance and the Museum’, one the Louvre’s temporary exhibits. The exhibit highlighted artistic depictions of movement, definitely focusing on the movement of dance. Yuuri had to agree that it was a favorite—as someone who loved to dance, he was clearly biased. “You’ve seen it before?”

“I was actually here a couple months before filming started,” Seung-gil replied. “It’s nice to be able to look at the art without a crowd around.”

“It feels like you can actually take your time,” Yuuri said, nodding.

Eventually they made their way to the _Mona Lisa_ , one of the museum’s most famous pieces. The room was still and empty, and Yuuri took a moment to appreciate just how close they could get to the painting. He could see even the most minute changes of color throughout the image, and the small cracks that betrayed just how old the work was.

“Wow,” Michele remarked, sounding the most cheerful he had all day. “I can’t believe we can do this without being behind, like, fifty other people.”

“I’m not really an art person, but even I can see how amazing that is,” Yuuri agreed, sharing a smile with Michele. It was then that he realized that unless he became more proactive, he would end this date still unsure of who he wanted to send home. He took a deep breath. “Michele, could I talk to you in private for a minute? Seung-gil, we’ll be right back.”

He didn’t take Michele far, only out around the corner in front of where _Liberty Leading the People_ was displayed. Still, they were out of earshot of Seung-gil, if not the sound and camera crew that had followed them.

“Michele, I have to know,” Yuuri said. “Why did you come on _The Bachelor_?”

Brows furrowed, Michele ran a hand through his light brown hair. He wouldn’t look at Yuuri. “I’m not…”

“Please tell me,” Yuuri said. Michele’s answer could change Yuuri’s opinion of him completely, for better or for worse.

Finally, Michele sighed. “I wanted to see why Sara did this. Why she wanted to come on the show so bad the first time, why she came back a second. I didn’t understand. And I…” His expression twisted with an undefinable mix of emotions. It was like he had forgotten Yuuri was there. “I still don’t know if I understand.”

Yuuri brought him back to the _Mona Lisa_ and then escorted Seung-gil to the same place. He asked, “Why are you here, Seung-gil?”

Unlike Michele, Seung-gil didn’t stall, probably having had time to prepare for Yuuri’s questioning. “I have a hard time meeting people, and a hard time talking to others. I’ve pushed people away for a long time, and I didn’t want to do that anymore. That’s why I came on this show. It forced me to get close to people.”

Having been around Seung-gil toeing the line between antisocial and invested for a few weeks now, Yuuri thought that this self-evaluation made sense. “You got really far in Sara’s season, right?” 

“Yes,” Seung-gil said. “I didn’t…I didn’t even like her at first, because I never like anybody at first. But I stuck with it. I got to second place. And maybe we would have worked out, but maybe we wouldn’t have. She’s happy with Mila now and I’m fine with that.” He looked right into Yuuri’s eyes as he said it. “I came back onto this show hoping I could connect with someone else in the same way.”

This time, when Yuuri brought Seung-gil back to the _Mona Lisa_ to join Michele again, he said, “I know who I’m picking.”

It was too soon—they still had so much of the museum to look through. But Yuuri had used up his social energy for the day, struggling to make the date go smoothly where its pieces were too ragged. Maybe it was unfair, but he was ready to go back to his hotel room, write Victor another borderline-flirtatious note, and then go to bed. A crew member hurried over with a rose; Yuuri took it and looked from Michele to Seung-gil. 

“Michele,” Yuuri said. “I think that when you’re ready to, you’ll be able to find someone you can truly spend your life with. But right now, with this season, you have some issues to work out within yourself that only you can solve. I really hope that you find happiness, but for now, I’m going to have to choose Seung-gil.” He closed his eyes for just a moment, collecting himself. “Seung-gil, will you accept this rose?”

Seung-gil stepped forward. Michele’s face was blank—Yuuri couldn’t tell if he was disappointed that he would be off the show or relieved.

“I accept,” Seung-gil said. As he had been instructed before the date, Yuuri took the hand of the winner—Seung-gil—and brought him through the museum, past the exhibits, away from the spacious front entrance and to where a car was waiting. Neither of them said a word until they had climbed into the backseat of the SUV.

The car began to drive away. Finally, Yuuri burst into shaky laughter. “This is so—ridiculous, it’s going to look like we just left him alone in the middle of Paris!”

In the seat beside him, for the first time that Yuuri had seen, Seung-gil smiled.

* * *

Later that night, after Yuuri had been safely transported to Paris to be near the rest of the cast, Leo stopped by his hotel room with a note.

_What should I wear tomorrow, for the group date?_ Victor had written.

Yuuri smiled at Leo and thanked him for going out of his way. Outside his window the night was dark and illuminated only by street lights. Yuuri sat down on the bed, exhausted, and used the pen and pad of paper provided by the hotel in order to reply.

_Surprise me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> passed 20k words! and with that, we are almost halfway through this (as chris harrison might put it) journey of joy. here is my [twitter](https://twitter.com/lenionice) if anyone has questions, wants to chat, or is looking for progress updates. :') if you're also a fic writer please hmu, i wanna follow more writers on twitter!
> 
> on a side note, how many people reading this have watched the bachelor before, and how many haven't? i'm curious :o


	6. Ad Lib

Victor Nikiforov was dead.

Or—that was too dramatic. Victor Nikiforov was _doomed_ , was maybe a better way to put it. Victor Nikiforov was still awaiting his death sentence, panic shifting in his gut like a living thing. Victor Nikiforov was staring at his open suitcase, clothes spilled out of it every which way as if a storm had come through, and wondering how long it would be until he got kicked off of the show. He had gone through his luggage three times, and the results were always the same.

Yuuri’s notes to him were gone.

Victor hadn’t been keeping track of how many there were, but they had grown to a sizable stack. Victor had reached into his suitcase for a shirt to wear and noticed immediately that something was off. Was the show’s crew allowed to go through Victor’s personal items like that? This had to be some sort of illegal, right? Not that Victor could prove anything—there was a very slim chance that someone else had taken the notes, but Victor couldn’t think of who might do something like that. None of the other items in his suitcase had been missing. If the show’s producers were still unaware that he and Yuuri had been communicating outside of the show’s limits, Victor didn’t want to risk letting them know by raising a complaint. 

It felt like all he could do was wait. It felt, horribly, like he had betrayed Yuuri’s trust. Yuuri wasn’t the one who would get in trouble, though; this situation would probably all be on Victor. 

He sat down heavily on his bed and let out a long, gusting sigh.

After his solo date, Chris had told Victor that he’d talked to Yuuri about his and Victor’s written communications. Yuuri had said that he would be careful. Victor, selfishly, was glad that he had made no such promises. There wasn’t much that he could do now but decide that he would wait and see who brought up the stack of notes first. This was easier said than done—Victor’s smile felt brittle when Chris came to fetch him for the day’s date card. 

Without Michele, there were seven men left wooing Yuuri, fame, or a free vacation, depending on their reasons for coming onto the show. All seven were led into the hotel suite that Seung-gil, Phichit, Georgi, and Emil were sharing. Their living space boasted the same open lounge as Victor, Chris, Otabek, and less recently Michele’s suite did. Three couches meant each contestant had plenty of personal space.

“What’s wrong?” Chris asked, nudging Victor as the two of them settled onto the maroon sofa. It was the closest to the door.

If not for the cameras, Victor might have told Chris as soon as the question left his friend’s mouth. As it was, Victor shrugged, watching as the usual ritual surrounding date cards was staged. A knock on the door came, one of the contestants—Georgi this time—was selected to go ‘answer’ it, and then that contestant brought back the date card that had been left mysteriously on their doorstep. Normally, Victor relished the surprise of who would be going on what dates. They all knew who would be on this group date, though, and Victor felt that he had more important things to worry about. He tried to look at the crew members as discreetly as possible. Guang-hong, a man who had ferried notes between Victor and Yuuri twice, was present but didn’t even glance at Victor. None of the other crew members seemed to be reacting much to Victor, either. Were they all just good actors?

“…and Victor,” someone said, grabbing Victor’s attention. Georgi, reading off the group date card. Victor relaxed again. 

“What else does it say?” Phichit, who would also be going on the group date, leaned forward eagerly. He and Georgi seemed to get along well, if only because Phichit humored Georgi’s dramatic nature with an easygoing cheer.

True to form, Georgi paused for effect, letting his eyes sweep over the other men. “It says,” he announced, “Lights, camera, action!”

So—something to do with movies. The men who would be going on the date were the leftovers from the week’s solo date and two on one date. Victor, Phichit, Emil, Georgi, and Otabek would be doing something with Yuuri, relating to movies, somewhere in France. Victor tried a little harder to summon up a genuine smile. Knowing the show, there would be some sort of performance aspect to the group date. Victor would need all the good cheer he could find within himself.

* * *

Yuuri greeted all of the men with hugs, initiating them without prompting—a rare action for his usual reserved demeanor. He came to Victor last. The way he caught Victor’s hand and squeezed it, just briefly, left Victor the most calm he’d felt all day.

Having been to Paris a few times, Victor thought that Yuuri’s presence among the stone roads, beautiful buildings, and tourist-magnet bridges was more interesting than the scenery itself. As the other contestants gaped, taking it all in, he kept his eyes on Yuuri, who couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off Victor either. However, unlike Victor, Yuuri’s frown seemed to grow every time their gazes met. Was Victor’s bad mood so obvious? He resolved to doing his best to focus on the date. There was no need for Yuuri to be worried.

The crew had settled at an especially picturesque bridge, though if Victor peered into the distance he could see a curse word blocked out in graffiti on a far-off building. A little gleeful spite rose in him. With any luck, the crew wouldn’t notice the foul language until the scene was filmed and in editing. 

“One thing France is known for is the Cannes Film Festival,” Yuuri began. He wore the stiff expression he sometimes did when saying lines clearly rehearsed for the show. Victor found it absolutely endearing. “So today, we’re going to be honoring that tradition and making a short film ourselves. But there’s a catch. Each of you will get a role in a story where your characters are in love with the same person. Half of it will be scripted. The other half will be improvising why our lead should be with your character.”

Ah, and there was the performance aspect.

“The lead we’re pursuing is you, right? Just making sure,” said Phichit.

“Yes, it’s me,” Yuuri confirmed. He looked distinctly embarrassed. Not used to seeing himself in a desirable way, maybe? But that didn’t make sense—a man such as Yuuri must be aware of his own charms. Nervous about acting, then?

“What are our roles?” Emil was leaning forward, like he was ready to physically dive in to the task.

“I’ll be playing an up-and-coming reporter,” Yuuri said. “Phichit will be playing my rival. Emil, Otabek, and Georgi are my coworkers. Victor will be playing one of my trusted sources. In a minute, you’ll receive a script. You all have an hour to memorize your lines. The scripts aren’t very long,” he added hurriedly. A crew member emerged from the throng of cameras and handed Yuuri a stack of paper.

Their next steps established, the group of contestants spread across the bridge, noses buried in their scripts. Yuuri, who most likely had already memorized his, took the opportunity to speak with each man one on one, rotating from person to person in ten-minute intervals.

Victor tried not to pay too much attention to Yuuri when there were other things that he should have been doing, but it was useless. Once Yuuri got to Phichit, there was no way Victor could have ignored them—Phichit was standing only a short ways away from Victor.

“How are you holding up without your hamsters?” Yuuri asked Phichit. 

Phichit placed a hand over his heart and pulled the most anguished face Victor had ever seen him make. “Not good, Yuuri. Sometimes I wake up at two in the morning, wondering why, and it’s because I don’t hear one of them running around on their wheel. It’s too quiet.” Phichit’s hamsters had been allowed to stay in his room while the contestants were at the mansion—one of the producers had taken a shine to them and purchased a deluxe cage, as well as a complex set of tubes for them to run around in. Unfortunately, there was no way Phichit could have taken them to France with him, and his sister had been allowed to visit the mansion for a few short moments to collect the hamsters. She’d had to sign a non-disclosure agreement even for waiting outside in her car. The show could be a bigger stickler for the rules than Victor thought was always necessary. So strict that he couldn’t imagine what they’d do if they found out about…

Shaking himself, Victor stared pointedly down at his script again. He’d barely read two lines when there came a gentle touch to his wrist. 

“It’s good to see you,” Yuuri said. His dark hair was slightly tousled from the wind, smile hesitant. There was a fingerprint smudged at the corner of his glasses. He let Victor take his hand with no fuss. It was a soothing balm on Victor’s frazzled mind; Victor put his script under one arm and pulled Yuuri forward, sitting himself down on the edge of the bridge. Yuuri’s eyebrows rose. “That’s dangerous,” he told Victor.

“I guess you’ll have to keep on holding my hand until I get down,” Victor said. “Don’t worry, I signed my waiver before the show started.”

Yuuri gave him a fond look. Victor thought he might have been a little exasperated too, but he was still holding Victor’s hand, so he counted it as a win. “Victor,” Yuuri said. “I wanted to ask, um…are you okay? You seem down today.”

Ah. So he had noticed. Victor wished that he and Yuuri could solve this problem together, but that was impossible. Victor flicked his eyes at one of the cameras currently aimed at Georgi, who was pacing the bridge and saying the same line with different emphasis every time. His point might have been better made with one of the cameras aimed at _them_ , but Victor thought it might draw too much attention if he suddenly broke the fourth wall. Hopefully Yuuri would still pick up on the implication. “I’ll be okay,” Victor said. “I really appreciate you asking, Yuuri. But I think we should just focus on the date.”

Yuuri’s eyes searched Victor’s face, and Victor did his best to appear calm. Thankfully, Yuuri nodded without pressing further, rubbing his thumb over the back of Victor’s hand. “Let me know if you need anything. I mean it.”

Victor dared to pull Yuuri closer and press a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you,” he murmured into Yuuri’s ear. The flush across the bridge of Yuuri’s nose spread to the tips of his ears.

After Yuuri moved on to chat with Otabek, Victor found the willpower to focus on his lines. The script was lackluster, to say the least—Victor expected that the improvisation aspect was where each contestant was truly expected to shine. When filming began, Victor worked to pay attention and to think of how his character could argue Yuuri’s to his side. Victor was and would always be a performer; he did his best to make each take perfect, but in between, his worry consumed him. It was difficult to let go of his paranoia about the notes. As if he were heaven-sent, Yuuri stuck nearby to Victor whenever he wasn’t needed on camera. Victor soaked up his presence like a rainforest to a steady downpour.

Victor still hadn’t thought of anything good by the time he was up for improv. Like he had for many other things in his life, he would just have to wing it.

Every scene in the film had taken place on the same bridge—the characters’ professions and history with Yuuri were revealed through their dialogue. Whoever won the improv contest would have their entire short film with Yuuri played for the audience, while the other men would only be shown practicing and in fragments.

Victor stood on the bridge, across from Yuuri, and had nothing but his own honest thoughts.

“From the start, I’ve opened my heart to you,” Victor said. “I’ve left behind so much for you, and I would leave behind more. This doesn’t mean you owe me anything, but I…want you to know. How much I want to give this a chance. I never thought I would feel this way before I met you. All I’m asking is that you trust me, and know that I trust you.”

He felt wrung out after worrying all day and then saying such revealing things. His small speech hadn’t even been very romantic—Victor wasn’t ready to talk about love to Yuuri, even if it was just acting. He was lucky that his character’s emotions could arguably be matched to his. God, why was this day determined to wear Victor down to only threads?

Phichit ended up winning the group date rose; he’d given a emphatic performance about how as Yuuri’s coworker, he’d always had a crush on Yuuri, or something. As filming wrapped up and the contestants and Yuuri parted ways, Yuuri grabbed Victor’s sleeve. 

“Thank you for trying to push through whatever was wrong today,” he said. Victor nodded, but didn’t respond further. It felt like the quiet moment after a failed program. 

Victor hadn’t felt like that in a long time.

* * *

Later, despondent, Victor allowed Chris to drag him off to their hotel’s pool for an hour. When Victor returned to the suite, leaving Chris behind to soak in luxury by himself, Otabek was standing beside Victor’s messy suitcase. He held a familiar stack of paper in his hand. 

Victor let the door shut a little louder than it needed to. “How did you get those?”

The lighting in the hotel was too soft for the fragmented emotions welling up in Victor’s chest. If this had been in a movie, there wouldn’t have been any lights on at all—only a storm outside, the lightning illuminating the way that Otabek and Victor stared each other down. Otabek seemed to wait a moment for Victor come farther into the room. When Victor only leaned back against the closed bedroom door, Otabek put the notes down on Victor’s luggage and reached into his own pocket. 

He pulled out a cell phone. 

Victor’s breath caught in his throat. 

Otabek swiped at the screen without looking away from Victor, and then held the phone out towards him. “You should probably see this.” 

Cautiously, Victor accepted the offered object. When he looked down at the screen, it was open to a text conversation with someone named ‘Yuri’. Victor’s gaze jerked back up to the man in front of him. “That’s—that’s where I remember you from. You’re friends with Yuri Plisetsky. You’ve probably been in some of his Instagram posts, right?”

Otabek shrugged. “A few. You should read our conversation.”

Things were starting to add up. Victor thought he might be able to guess what was going on already, but he started to scroll through the message log anyway. There was a long string of texts from Otabek quoting the notes that Katsuki Yuuri had sent Victor—and before that, a request from Yuri Plisetsky to take them. Notes that Yuri Plisetsky wouldn’t have known about, had Otabek not told him. A request that Otabek wouldn’t have gotten, had he not been on the show.

Victor stopped scrolling. He’d seen enough. 

“Yuri asked you to spy on me,” Victor said. Well, that was one mystery solved. At least now he knew why he’d always felt the invisible weight of Otabek’s stare.

“To look after you,” Otabek corrected. He didn’t try to take his phone back, just sat down on the bed and waited. 

Delicately, Victor sat beside him. He doubted that Yuri had phrased it like that. “Can I text him?”

“Sure.”

Given permission, Victor pondered over what he would send—it was hard to make a good entrance over text message. _This is Victor,_ he typed, and then, _You have a lot of explaining to do._ Almost as soon as he sent it, the little speech bubble that signaled Yuri’s typing appeared. The animation disappeared and then resumed several times.

 _Give the phone back to Otabek,_ Yuri’s reply finally stated. 

Victor called Yuri instead. Yuri picked up on the first ring.

“What did I _tell_ you,” were Yuri’s first words to Victor in weeks, snarled more than said. Victor could have wept with joy. 

“I missed you!” he said brightly, just to hear the way it made Yuri shout at him down the line. He held the phone away from his ear, as he always did with Yakov and Yuri, and grinned. “Yuri, I can’t believe you care so much about me that you convinced your friend to come onto a _dating_ show. I’ll never doubt that you love me ever again.”

As Yuri’s ranting renewed, Victor exchanged a commiserating glance with Otabek. He wished that he could put the phone on speaker, but he was paranoid that somehow a camera crew would be lurking around just waiting to capture evidence of a phone on set. 

“I owe you an apology,” said Otabek. “I invaded your privacy.”

Victor sighed. Thinking about Otabek going through his luggage was awful, but truthfully, the situation he was in now was miles better than the alternatives. “I won’t say that I’m okay with it. But please don’t do it again, even if it is Yuri asking.”

“Are you talking to Otabek?” Yuri demanded. “Give the phone to him like I said.”

Obedient for once, Victor passed the phone over to Otabek. Otabek had barely said hello before there was a resounding knock at the suite’s main door; Otabek stuffed the phone under a pillow without hesitation as Victor shot out of his seat. Had they been found out somehow? Victor tried not to break into a nervous sweat as he went to go see who could be visiting so late.

To his relief, the visitor was Guang-hong. Victor let him duck into the room and then allowed the door to click closed.

“Is it Yuuri?” he asked, trying not to sound too eager and definitely, definitely failing. When Guang-hong nodded, Victor ran to get pen and paper so that he could respond right away.

Yuuri’s note was written on the same complimentary hotel notepad paper that he’d used the last time. Victor sent Guang-hong off with his reply and returned to the bedroom quickly, aware that he had kept the other Yuri in his life waiting. Otabek had already returned to talking with Yuri when Victor returned, but handed the phone over to Victor right away. Victor held it back up to his ear.

“Tell me what the note says,” Yuri instructed. 

Victor had no problems doing so—he only wished that Yuri had asked from the beginning, instead of having Otabek go through Victor’s things. “He wrote ‘Please just let me know you’re okay?’ with a little question mark on the end and everything, like he didn’t want to seem demanding but he really wanted to check on me. Yuuri is so caring,” he sighed, dreamy.

“Yuck, it’s weird to hear you sound like that talking about a guy with the same name as me.” There was a pause. “He really wrote that to you?”

“He did.”

“What did you say back?”

“Oh, just that things were fine, there was a problem but it’s solved now.” And that Yuuri was the sweetest thing, which Victor felt that he should keep to himself. For his fellow skater’s fragile state of mind. 

And people said that Victor couldn’t be sensitive.

“Just. Make sure he takes care of you,” Yuri said, tone of voice as sharp as a blade. 

The line went dead.

Yuri Plisetsky was a lot of things, and bad at expressing feelings was one of them. Victor couldn’t really blame him—he was the same way, though more aloof than aggressive. Recent developments had left Victor with the notion that he wanted to be more honest. More himself, whatever that was. It wouldn’t always be easy, as evidenced by his lackluster performance at the group date, but it would be better. There was no question about that. He only wished that others could have faith that Victor knew what he was doing. Victor sighed.

Otabek was looking at him a little too closely, but Victor had gotten used to Otabek’s eyes on him. “I’m fine,” he said, answering the unspoken question. “It just…feels like people don’t really trust me. Two people came onto this show because they didn’t think that I could look after myself. You didn’t even know me.”

“The one that they didn’t trust was Yuuri,” Otabek said. “They cared about you, that’s all.”

Victor’s impressions of Otabek had been rapidly shifting over the course of filming—now he was left with the distinct feeling that Otabek was a young man who was sometimes wise beyond his years. He cared enough about a friend that he would go babysit a man he’d never met. Otabek noticed things about people, despite the things that their words and expressions were saying. That was the only way he and Yuri could get along so well. Victor didn’t know how he felt about being around someone so observant. 

But…wait.

“How did you even know about the notes in the first place?” Victor asked, confused.

Otabek stared him down for a long time. “Victor,” he said eventually, “I don’t know if anyone’s ever told you this. But when it comes to Katsuki Yuuri, you are not a very subtle person.”

And that, Victor thought, was perfectly fair.

* * *

Eventually Chris returned to the room. It took Victor a moment to realize that Chris’s wide-eyed expression wasn’t due to anything Victor and Otabek were doing; rather, Chris barely seemed to notice the two of them lying propped up against the headboard in the same bed. He hurried over and turned the television off.

“What’s wrong?” Victor said. He sat up a little straighter.

“Yuuri just came by the other suite,” Chris said, throwing himself sideways across the foot of the bed. He landed right on Otabek’s legs. Gingerly, Otabek pushed Chris off of him, and Chris barreled on into his news without missing a beat. “He came by to let Georgi know that he was the one leaving. You know, one on one, so that Georgi wouldn’t have to be the only man sent off at the rose ceremony.”

Victor tried to imagine it—would Yuuri be wearing the apologetic and nervous smile he sometimes displayed around the contestants, or would his face be stiff and blank the way it sometimes got when he was particularly conscious of being on film? Georgi had to have known what was happening right as Yuuri singled him out. Victor pictured himself as the one Yuuri had come to send off. “Oh,” he said, a cold feeling settling in his stomach. “Is Georgi already gone?”

Chris waved a hand. “No, no, they’re sending him home tomorrow morning. But _we_ have to be in our lounge in ten minutes, so Yuuri can give us all our roses.”

A thrill went through Victor. He hadn’t expected to see Yuuri until later that night, at the cocktail party. He, Otabek, and Chris made sure their clothes were as immaculate as could be and headed out to the lounge just as there was a knock on the door. Ten minutes later, a camera crew was set up and Yuuri was standing in front of the remaining contestants. A tray of four roses sat on the table in front of them. Georgi was nowhere to be seen for this portion of filming, and Victor figured he was probably back in the other rooms. 

Yuuri’s brown eyes evaluated Victor closely, as if Yuuri wanted to be absolutely sure that Victor was alright. When Victor glanced down to the pocket of Yuuri’s tailored black pants, he imagined that he could see the outline of a folded piece of paper. He flicked his gaze up to meet Yuuri’s again and grinned.

Smiling in return, Yuuri turned to the crew. “Are we ready to start?” The producers conferred for a moment and then gave Yuuri a thumbs up. He took a deep breath and continued, “So…as you all probably know, I just sent Georgi home. You all also know that that means I want every one of you to stay another week, but it was important to me to offer you a rose anyway.”

He picked up the first rose and began listing off their names. Victor, Phichit, Seung-gil, Otabek, Emil, and Chris would be staying—every man accepted their offered rose without hesitation, except for Phichit and Seung-gil, who already had one. Victor took his rose with what was becoming a customary kiss to Yuuri’s cheek, which Yuuri tilted his face towards without a word. After next week’s dates and subsequent rose ceremony, there would be four men left. Four men who would be taking Yuuri to their hometown, showing Yuuri the places that mattered most to them. Allowing Yuuri to meet their most important people, such as grumpy coaches and rinkmates. 

Victor, tired hope surging in his chest, told himself that he would be one of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to everyone who responded last chapter! it seems like the consensus is that no one watches the actual show, which is definitely very understandable hahaha. if you want to know what kinds of wild things go on, but don't want to sit through that much reality tv, i really have to recommend the podcast rose buddies again! 
> 
> in other news, the end of the semester at my university is coming up, which is not only a busy time for me academically but also for my job. so if you haven't seen this fic update in a couple of weeks, i promise i am still sticking with it to the end!! i should pick back up with more regular updates in early may. ❤
> 
> as always, thanks for reading!  
> [my twitter](https://twitter.com/lenionice)


	7. The Weight of a Gold Medal

The next city that _The Bachelor_ would be gracing with their camera crews was in Italy. Rome was about a two-hour flight from Paris. It was a beautiful place, another that Yuuri had never visited, and once there, Yuuri would be going on two solo dates and a group date before the next rose ceremony. Since there were so few men left, there would be no roses given on the solo dates or group date—the producers were saving all of the suspense for the end of the week. Yuuri at least had the security of knowing that there were only six people’s time to be balanced this week, and only four all at the same time.

Yuuri felt that he could have appreciated it more had he not been dealing with a keen awareness of just how selfish he was.

Victor had obviously been upset on the last group date. Yuuri hadn’t been able to figure out why the man hadn’t been able to relax, even as the date continued on, but the more he’d thought about it and how reluctant Victor had been to speak in front of the cameras, the more it became obvious that Victor was worried about his career. Yuuri knew that Victor claimed to be taking a season off, but it wouldn’t be easy to return to the ice, especially at his age. Of course Victor wouldn’t want to voice his worries on camera, where his fears would be aired for competitors and fans alike to see. Victor’s image was confident and graceful. Yuuri couldn’t believe that he hadn’t noticed sooner that Victor was so torn up about it. Shame rose up in Yuuri in constant waves.

The only person being driven more up the wall by Yuuri’s guilt was Minako. 

“Yuuri,” she said, exasperated. “How many times have I told you? Victor chose to be here. He sent in an _audition tape_ to be here.”

Minako was, again, keeping Yuuri company as he waited for an SUV to bring his date for the day. Unfortunately, the car carrying Phichit was stuck in traffic; they were already half an hour behind schedule, and Yuuri was trying not to let the antsy camera crew make him even more nervous. It was a cloudy day—the streets in front of the entrance to Rome’s catacombs were drenched in shadow. Which, Yuuri supposed, was pretty atmospheric.

“I know that,” Yuuri said. “It’s just…he could regret it later.” The image of Victor looking back on the show with anger because it— _Yuuri_ —had ruined his career sent a shiver of unhappiness down Yuuri’s spine.

“Just…” Minako sighed. “Focus on this date, for now. You’re seeing Victor in a couple days, right? Talk to him about it then.”

There was more than one man who had not yet had a solo date with Yuuri, but selfishly, Yuuri had chosen Phichit and Victor to have second solo dates because Yuuri had already decided that he wanted to get to know them better. He would have the perfect opportunity to discuss Victor’s career with him later in the week, after the group date. Yuuri’s feelings of anxiety spiked.

By the time Phichit’s SUV arrived, they were severely off-schedule. Yuuri barely had time to greet Phichit before they were being ushered down into the catacombs, a camera crew close behind them. 

They were so focused on getting farther into the tunnels that they were unprepared when a large shape burst out at them.

Yuuri yelled and grabbed at Phichit’s arm at the same time Phichit grabbed for him, and the two of them clung to each other in the corridor, shaking. A second later the figure drew closer and let out a booming laugh.

“It’s about time!” The man, who turned out to be their tour guide, was wearing all white. When combined with his pale complexion and the fact that they were in Rome’s catacombs, he looked positively ghostly. As the tour guide led them down the dark tunnel ahead, Phichit nudged Yuuri’s side, delighted.

“Wow!” he said, laughing. “I really thought nothing could scare you worse than the racetrack, but I have _never_ heard you scream like that. Why do you keep doing this to yourself?”

Embarrassed, Yuuri explained, “You just seem like you enjoy new things, so I try to pick exciting things you might not be able to do easily.”

Phichit was still holding Yuuri’s hand; he squeezed once. “Well, you’re right. Still, the catacombs. Wow.”

Catacombs were an unorthodox place for a date, but from what Yuuri had heard, weirder had been done on _The Bachelor_. At least the catacombs weren’t really intended to be scary—just, you know, a wall of old human skulls could achieve that effect, no matter what the intentions of the architect. The tour guide had a lot of fun explaining the history behind that particular landmark. Yuuri stared up at the skulls, trying not to imagine that every empty eye socket was watching him. 

Phichit was starry-eyed. At least Yuuri’s choice of dates still seemed to be working out. “Yuuri, will you take a selfie with me down here?”

Smiling, Yuuri asked, “With what phone?”

“Ugh,” Phichit groaned. “Right, right.”

“This is all being filmed,” Yuuri said. “So, not a selfie, but still proof we were here?”

This brightened Phichit’s mood considerably. Things with Phichit had been like this from the start, easy and uncomplicated. Yuuri had come onto the show not really intending to find a partner. Phichit would have been an obvious candidate to win, and Yuuri might have gone through with his original plan to discuss their options while the cameras were off of them in the fantasy suites, only…there was Victor. Yuuri hadn’t expected Victor.

He shook his head, trying to clear his mind of anxious thoughts, and let himself be swept into Phichit’s enthusiastic aura.

* * *

If Yuuri had been asked beforehand, he would have said that he expected his final group date as the star of _The Bachelor_ to be hectic, but it was almost boring. He had no idea how the show’s producers would edit it later, as the combination of Otabek and Seung-gil’s reticence, Emil’s energy, and Chris’s endless fountain of conversation topics often felt strained. Yuuri was all too happy to leave group dates behind and join Victor on the last solo date of the week.

He and Victor were driven together to the date’s location. Victor raised an eyebrow when he saw what that Yuuri had chosen. “A winery?”

An Italian winery recommended personally by one of the show’s producers sprawled out before them. Yuuri could understand Victor’s curiosity—this was a far cry from their first solo date at the roller skating rink. There was no good way to explain ‘you and your family seem to have a lot of money and people with a lot of money seem to like wine’, so what came out of Yuuri’s mouth was, “You seem to…like wine?” Instantly, he scrambled for something else to say. “I mean, I wanted to impress you. With something fancy.” No, that was still bad. Yuuri prayed that Victor would interrupt him before he could ramble any more than he already had.

Laughing, Victor said, “You don’t need to try so hard to impress me, Yuuri. I feel like I might disappoint you, but I don’t actually know a thing about wine,” he admitted. “My parents aren’t huge fans.” This marked the second time that Yuuri had brought Victor to do something he thought Victor would enjoy, only to find out that Victor was less experienced than Yuuri thought he was.

“You're a vodka connoisseur, instead?” Yuuri joked.

“I drink it sometimes, but no one knows Russian alcohol like my coach. Yuri—non-Bachelor Yuri—lives with Yakov, and he says Yakov’s liquor cabinet is more well-stocked than a store.” Victor grinned, looking as if he were reminiscing on a specific conversation. “I can’t wait for you to meet them, and the other skaters if they’re around.”

Yuuri’s heart fluttered. Victor was so certain that he was getting through to the next week. There was something else that caught Yuuri’s attention, though. What about Victor’s parents? Wasn’t Victor excited for Yuuri to meet them, too? Unless there was some reason that Victor hadn’t mentioned them. 

“Are you close to your family?” Yuuri asked, cautiously. “I mean, I never see them at events with you…”

Victor’s brow furrowed, before he seemed to realize what Yuuri was getting at. “Oh! I’m sorry, I realize that me not mentioning them might make it seem like we aren’t close. It’s just that they’re very private, and refuse to appear on camera, that’s all. It was just that I knew there’d be no chance of seeing them on the show,” Victor assured Yuuri. “I know, it’s a little ironic, since their son spends so much time in the public eye.”

Yuuri’s apprehension melted into relief. “Then you see them a lot?”

“Not as often as I should,” Victor said. “I just…get very busy, with skating. But they’ve always been good to me. I wish you _could_ meet them.”

The conversation wove on as they explored the grounds of the winery, but if Yuuri was honest then he would admit he was paying more attention to Victor than to his surroundings. The two of them ambled along past endless vineyards, hand in hand, following the path until they reached the clearing that the show’s crew had prepared for them. Nestled among the greenery was a wooden table, two chairs, and a spread of wine samples for Yuuri and Victor to try. Remembering how Victor had mentioned that he didn’t actually know that much about wine, Yuuri figured this would be a novel experience for both of them.

“So you majored in mathematics? That’s amazing,” Victor said, once they were situated and ready to film again. It was a carryover from their earlier conversation, when Yuuri had mentioned that he’d been attending university for the past few years. Victor scooted his chair closer to Yuuri’s, eyes sparkling.

“Yes, I…I actually failed my last semester, though,” Yuuri replied timidly. He hadn’t wanted Victor to know that, but—well, Victor shouldn’t be thinking that Yuuri had actually succeeded in getting his degree, when the opposite was true.

Victor blinked. “You did?”

“It was—I failed my finals,” Yuuri said, feeling the sharp need to explain. “Normally you still might pass, but there was one class that I hadn’t been doing so well in. So when I failed the final, it lowered my grade enough to fail the class.” Here, Yuuri had to stop. He’d tried to get it all out in one rush, but thinking about failing made him think about _why_ he’d failed, and thinking about Vicchan was something he’d been avoiding for over a year. Yuuri looked away from Victor and blinked forcefully. He hadn’t cried on camera yet, and he was not about to start now.

“Yuuri?” Victor said, uncertain. “Are you alright?”

When Yuuri collected himself enough to face Victor again, he saw that Victor was half turned in his seat, hands raised like he’d been about to touch Yuuri but wasn’t sure if that was the right thing to do. The horrified expression on his face, like he’d have no idea what to do if Yuuri started crying, was enough to make Yuuri smile. “I’m okay,” he said. “Sorry, it’s just—um, it’s frustrating to think that I was only three credits away from graduating. And it was an elective, too.” Hopefully that was a sufficient explanation. He would tell Victor about Vicchan, but not now, when every one of Yuuri’s emotions would spill out for the cameras to pick up greedily.

Victor reached across the table and took Yuuri’s hand. “Do you want to talk about something else?”

“Yes, absolutely,” Yuuri replied, relieved. There was no need to dredge up more of his failures for Victor’s perusal. He ignored Minako’s voice in his head, going _Talk to him!_ “How about we try some of this wine?”

Sitting around just drinking wine seemed boring, so Yuuri suggested a game. Either Yuuri or Victor would try one of the wines, describe it to the other in their best impersonation of a sommelier, and the other would try it and rate their description. Victor volunteered to try the first sample; he swirled it around his glass thoughtfully before taking a sip.

“It seems, uh, aged? Definitely very earthy. I’m also detecting the distinct flavor of fermented grapes.”

Yuuri snorted. “Victor, you just described every wine to me.”

“Ah,” Victor said, winking. “But doesn’t that just mean my evaluation was very accurate?”

The game continued like that. Each description became more and more elaborate, until Yuuri had reduced Victor into helpless laughter, musing that the body of one wine must have been infused with the essence of an awkward interaction Yuuri had once had with a guy at a club. The man had subjected Yuuri to terrible dancing for about ten minutes before realizing, once Yuuri had turned around, that Yuuri was not the man he’d thought he was. All it took was the grueling conversation Yuuri’d had with the man’s actual boyfriend to convince Yuuri that he should never go back to _that_ particular venue. 

As Victor’s laughter quieted, he fixed Yuuri with a fond look. The sunlight caught in his hair, lit his blue eyes. He was so gorgeous that Yuuri took another sip of the wine, just for something to do, and when he lowered the glass from his lips, Victor’s gaze caught on his mouth, and held.

Yuuri had thought about kissing Victor. It wasn’t because of the wine, as they’d only had sips from a few of the samples. Kissing Victor was something he’d wanted without really considering too closely before then; it had seemed too out of reach, something that would never happen and so was pointless to linger on. Now he wished, a little desperate, that Victor would take action. As the Bachelor, Yuuri felt it would be odd to initiate kisses himself. It would make it obvious who Yuuri’s favored candidates were. However, instead of doing anything Victor met Yuuri’s eyes again and smiled. He took another sip of wine. It would be up to Yuuri, then, to hint to Victor that they wanted the same things. He licked his lips, nervous. Victor’s gaze lowered again.

“It’s strange,” Yuuri said, taking the plunge, “that no one’s tried to kiss me yet.” 

He wasn’t looking at Victor, choosing to stare down at his wineglass, but he was conscious of Victor’s presence beside him. He could still feel Victor’s intense gaze as heavily as a touch. As the silence drew on, Yuuri’s nerves began to falter. Hurriedly, he tried to backtrack. “I mean—if you got this far, I’d think you’d…you know…”

Victor laughed, a quiet and intimate sound. He shifted in his seat next to Yuuri. “I think I know why no one’s tried it.”

Yuuri put his wineglass down on the table and turned so that he was facing Victor, giving Victor his attention. Another flicker of uncertainty almost stopped him, but he pushed past it—Victor was also fully turned towards Yuuri, after all, focused on Yuuri alone. “Why is that?”

“Sometimes when you’re nervous, you look angry,” Victor said. “Not like someone who would enjoy being kissed right at that moment.” His stare flicked down to Yuuri’s mouth, lingered, and then returned to Yuuri’s eyes. Pointed, purposeful this time. 

A request.

Yuuri leaned forward a little, placing his hand on the arm of Victor’s chair. Victor didn’t move away, allowing Yuuri into his personal space. “I don’t think I look too nervous now,” Yuuri said. “Do you?”

Victor’s lips parted as he breathed in. “Can I kiss you, Yuuri?”

The moment drew out, seconds ticking by. Yuuri almost wanted to let it linger—even though he still didn’t understand it, felt guilty about it, Victor’s yearning for him was almost tangible. Yuuri’s lack of achievements didn’t matter, only that he and Victor were completely in tune and on the same page in this one moment, regardless of what happened after. Victor waited, patient, for Yuuri to respond. His eyes were so blue. 

“Haven’t I been saying ‘yes’ for the past five minutes?” Yuuri murmured, leaning closer still. 

Victor reached up to cup Yuuri’s cheek, and kissed him.

It was the most gentle that anyone had ever kissed Yuuri. Victor’s mouth was soft and undemanding, his hand warm on Yuuri’s face—seeking touch, not holding Yuuri in place. Yuuri wished that he could crowd into Victor’s space even more than he already was, but two chair arms separated them. He settled for pushing his fingers through the smooth hair at the back of Victor’s head. He felt it when Victor shivered; Victor kissed him again, thumb brushing over Yuuri’s cheekbone. After a few minutes, Yuuri pulled away, a thrum of happiness settling in his veins. Kissing Victor was like nothing he’d ever dreamed.

“You’re so beautiful,” Victor said, as awestruck as Yuuri felt. The mics would still pick up his words, despite the fact Victor had said them low like he wanted them to be between him and Yuuri only. 

Unfortunately, remembering the mics also made Yuuri remember the cameras. 

It was only out of sheer willpower that Yuuri didn’t jerk out of Victor’s hold. The moment cracked at the edges, although it wasn’t shattered entirely. Yuuri tried and failed to think of a reply that could adequately sum up his feelings. He battled images of the camera lenses zooming in, eagerly capturing every second of Yuuri kissing Victor Nikiforov for the first time.

“Thank you,” was all he could manage, in the end. He was too overwhelmed to say anything else.

* * *

The rose ceremony the following night took place at a small gazebo on their hotel’s property. Covered in flowers and decked out in strings of lights, the gazebo was just large enough to fit all six remaining men inside, with Yuuri standing at the entrance with his usual tray of roses. He gave his standard speech, thanking the men for being there to get to know Yuuri, and then picked up the first rose. He didn’t have to think hard about who he definitely wanted with him another week.

“Phichit,” he called. Phichit stepped forward and accepted the rose, throwing his arms around Yuuri’s neck and pulling him in for a hug. Yuuri hugged him back, grinning. He was excited to see where Phichit had grown up, and to meet his family.

When Phichit returned to his place in the lineup, Yuuri smoothed his own hair down and then plucked up the second rose. This, too, would be an easy decision. “Chris,” he said. Unlike Phichit, Chris didn’t hug Yuuri, but he murmured his thanks into Yuuri’s ear before moving away again. Yuuri thought that he might have still been confused why Yuuri was keeping him, when he knew Chris was only there to look out for Victor—but Yuuri liked Chris, and valued the friendship growing between them. 

There were two roses left, with four men waiting. 

Yuuri went over what he knew of the remaining contestants in his mind. Emil was fun to be around, and came at everything with a positive outlook, eager to please the people around him. Seung-gil was withdrawn, but Yuuri felt that he and Seung-gil understood each other, and it really did seem like Seung-gil was genuinely on the show to meet people. Yuuri felt like he at least knew more about Seung-gil than he did Otabek, who Yuuri liked but who Yuuri also thought might be more open to sharing information about himself off of the air. And last of the four was Victor.

Yuuri took a deep breath. “Seung-gil.”

Seung-gil accepted the rose with one of his rare smiles. He left behind a single bloom with Yuuri. 

It felt like even the open space in the gazebo itself was holding its breath. Hesitantly, Yuuri let his gaze sweep over the six men. Victor’s eyes on him were trusting, the upwards set of his mouth easy—this wasn’t the first time Yuuri had left him for last. After their date at the winery, he probably wasn’t even considering that Yuuri might not keep him for hometowns. He must’ve had full faith in Yuuri’s decision.

Minako stepped forward. “Gentlemen, Yuuri, this is the final rose tonight.” She met Yuuri’s eyes, meaningful, and Yuuri knew that if the cameras wouldn’t have picked it up then her gaze would’ve flicked over at Victor. As it was, Minako only said, “When you’re ready,” and moved away again, leaving Yuuri to pick up the last rose on the tray. Victor was still fixing him with that smitten, adoring stare.

What did Yuuri have to offer Victor? He let himself imagine the aftermath; Victor’s face when he called out another name, the way his expression would melt into shock, mouth dropping open just slightly. He imagined what would happen even after that, when they were saying their goodbyes. Would Victor put on a strong face, and see his time on the show off with a smile? Or would he just leave without a word, back to the career he had worked so hard for?

How long would he remember ordinary, unremarkable Katsuki Yuuri?

Victor’s silver hair gleamed in the artful lighting under the gazebo. Shadows softened his features, made the way he smiled at Yuuri almost unbearable. Yuuri wanted that smile for as long he could have it. He couldn’t stop thinking about the unwavering support that Victor showed to him, the way they could make each other laugh, how Victor was unexpected in the best of ways. He thought about kissing Victor, gentle and unhurried. He wanted to hold Victor’s hand as Victor told him of all the important things in his life. He wanted to learn more about Victor’s family. He wanted to meet Victor’s dog. He wanted Victor to take him skating.

Yuuri was selfish. But he had always known that.

“Victor,” he said, and tried not to let his voice tremble.

* * *

Yuuri’s chosen men for hometowns being Chris, Seung-gil, Phichit, and Victor meant that Emil and Otabek would be leaving. Emil took the news cheerfully, taking Yuuri’s hand in his and informing Yuuri that he’d had a lot of fun. Yuuri exchanged well-wishes with him before turning around and coming face to face with Otabek.

Otabek stuck out a hand. Yuuri shook it obediently, and then Otabek cleared his throat.

“I’ve got my eye on you, Katsuki Yuuri,” he said—only it was a little too mechanical, like he was quoting something. Confused, Yuuri watched as Otabek gave him a nod and then stepped away. A moment later, he pulled out a small object from the inside of his suit jacket. It took Yuuri’s mind a second to process that the object was a cell phone. Otabek’s thumb swiped at the phone’s screen for a second before he held it up to his ear. “Hey,” he said. “I’m coming back.”

The phone conversation continued as Otabek headed towards the cobblestone pathway that lead back to their hotel. Yuuri hadn’t gotten to know Otabek as well as he might have liked, but he hadn’t expected Otabek to sneak in a phone. He let out a shaky laugh and then glanced around to see if anyone else had noticed. There were a few cameras pointed Otabek’s way, but out of all the contestants, only two were staring after him. Phichit’s mouth had dropped open, eyes comically wide. In contrast, Victor had a knowing grin on his lips. When he noticed Yuuri watching him his expression brightened. He gave Yuuri that soft, heartfelt smile, eyes shining like it was the first time he was seeing Yuuri all day. 

Yuuri could only wish that it didn’t feel so satisfying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holy shit i am alive somehow. unfortunately what i said last chapter still stands, and it's very possible i won't be able to update for a couple weeks. thanks for sticking with me y'all!! i got some very kind comments last chapter and i'm so grateful. you are the best ❤
> 
> i'm also really excited to say that there's fanart for this fic! we have both [yuuri writing a note to victor](https://twitter.com/jumpforjo/status/853024705355407360) and [victor writing a note to yuuri](https://twitter.com/jumpforjo/status/853039588994162689). thank you so much jo, i never thought this fic would get fanart and i'm so honored that you were inspired enough to draw for it!
> 
> next time: hometowns!!!  
> [my twitter](https://twitter.com/lenionice)  
> 


	8. Rinkside, II

When Victor returned to the rink, it felt like he had never left at all. 

Sitting down to strap on his skates made the past weeks seem like a dream, one that he was blinking out of now. Like he had imagined Yuuri’s smile and the way kissing him felt, as if it were something Victor had been wanting his whole life but never known. It’d been almost days since Victor had been able to see Yuuri. Victor was second in the line-up of four trips to the contestants’ hometowns, behind Seung-gil, and the lengths of flights around the world didn’t get shorter just because they were for a television show. He and Yuuri had stopped exchanging notes, as well, because Yuuri would be so distant. Victor thought perhaps it was for the best—he still hadn’t forgotten his fear when he’d thought they’d been discovered. Still, he was glad that he would be seeing Yuuri soon. He finished tying his skates and let out a sigh. If it _had_ been a dream, then would he lose his inspiration again, as quickly as Yuuri had vanished from his arms after telling Victor to come onto the show all those months ago?

“Victor, we’ve decided that we’d like to get some shots of you skating when Yuuri comes in.”

Luckily, Victor had very visible reminder that his time on the show had been real.

He gave the producer standing over him a polite smile. Four cameras had already been set up—one on the rink’s entrance, and three trained on the ice itself. “Of course,” he said. “Anything in particular I should be doing?” Victor had an endless repertoire of programs under his belt, and he was itching to see how well he remembered them all.

The producer shrugged. “Something flashy would be best, but it’s really up to you.”

Her reply seemed careless, but Victor knew that it was only because whatever Victor skated, it could be edited to achieve the mood or feeling that the show wanted to convey. Victor stood up as the producer headed back towards the camera crew, probably to let them know that they needed to start filming soon.

The ice gleamed, as it always had, under the lights. Victor waited at the edge, mixed emotions churning inside him. He knew that many people considered him retired for good. There was no way, they said, that he could take this much time off and then come back at the same level as before. There was no way he could remain at the top. What they didn’t understand was that Victor didn’t care about skating at the top anymore—without inspiration, winning felt meaningless. He would have fallen eventually, crushed under the weight of his own dissatisfaction. Now, with the new emotions that Yuuri was showing him, Victor could take to the ice and in turn show his fans a side of him that they had never seen before. He could skate with pride again. Victor wasn’t worried about his return; he knew that he could make a strong comeback if he could make a comeback with Yuuri.

He placed one foot onto the ice, and let himself glide towards its center.

Almost without thought, Victor began skating his short program from last season, avoiding doing any jumps for now. Moving into the step sequence was second nature. He let his thoughts wander to Yuuri, who would be arriving any minute now. Victor hoped that Yuuri would enjoy seeing his home rink, as a fan of figure skating. Hometowns on _The Bachelor_ were a little different because the contestants chose the dates—and the rink had been an obvious choice for Victor. He hadn’t been able to think of anything truly exciting for the second part of the date, but he hoped that Yuuri would enjoy eating with Victor at one of his favorite restaurants all the same. Yuuri would also be able to meet Yakov and Yuri Plisetsky while he was at the rink. Victor had considered asking Yuri if he would bring Makkachin along, but in the end, he'd decided against it. Victor didn't want Makkachin to get excited by seeing him only to be separated from Victor again for weeks afterward. Makkachin was used to him being gone for competitions. However, when Victor came back, they'd always had more time with each other than a few hours.

Victor broke off from skating his program and began to drift backwards. Truthfully, he wished that he could have brought Yuuri to his parents’ home after the rink, but that wasn’t even a possibility. His parents were partners in a large metallurgy company, and worked tirelessly to cultivate a positive image, something that the editing crew of _The Bachelor_ wouldn’t be concerned with. Yuuri would have to meet them after the show had ended, off camera.

A flurry of movement near the rink’s entrance signaled to Victor that Yuuri was heading in. 

Heart beating a quicker tempo in his chest, Victor started up his short program again, still avoiding jumps—he hadn’t warmed up properly, and he wasn’t sure he could get as smooth a landing as he wanted to show Yuuri after not practicing for so long. Concentrating on performing his program, he didn’t notice that Yuuri had come in and was standing at the rink’s edge until he was in his final pose, with Yuuri clapping enthusiastically.

“That was amazing,” Yuuri called to him. He looked as beautiful as ever, hair carefully styled and characteristic half-rim glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. His brown eyes were shining.

Victor let his arms fall and skated over to him, grinning widely. He leaned across the barrier to take Yuuri’s hands in his, too impatient to exit the rink first. “So I haven’t lost my touch?”

“You know you haven’t,” Yuuri said. He let Victor greet him with a kiss, reaching up and brushing his fingers through Victor’s hair.

Victor’s heart trembled. Being close with Yuuri was what he had been longing for, and he was almost overwhelmed by the proximity. He drew back and squeezed Yuuri’s hands. “Come onto the ice with me,” he suggested—although it felt more like begging. Trying to save face, he threw in a wink. “Maybe I’ll show you a few things.”

Yuuri closed his eyes and let out a deep breath. “Wow,” he said, his voice reverent.

“What is it?” 

“Nothing.” Yuuri shook his head. He stepped away, leaving Victor’s hands to fall to his sides. “Just, I—never imagined you saying something like that to me. Um, give me a second, I’m sure they have skates for me somewhere.”

True to form, the show had indeed left a pair of simple black skates in Yuuri’s size by the bench Victor had been sitting at not long ago. Victor skated by Yuuri’s side as Yuuri went to put them on, the barrier separating them. As Yuuri sat down, Victor leaned his arms on the barrier and looked at him thoughtfully. As a fan of ice skating, Yuuri was definitely familiar with Victor’s career—to an outsider, it might have seemed like his own ego talking, but Victor was very aware of his position in life. His name almost always came up in discussions about men’s figure skating. 

“Yuuri,” he said. “Do you think I can return to figure skating after the show ends?”

It was less a question borne of Victor’s insecurity and more that he wanted to know Yuuri’s opinion on the matter. If they were going to be a couple, they had to communicate, after all. Victor had already made up his mind, but he was curious as to what Yuuri thought. 

Yuuri’s shoulders hunched, and he paused after he finished tying his skates. He didn’t look at Victor for a moment. Victor thought, then, that Yuuri would tell him ‘no.’ Victor valued Yuuri’s thoughts and feelings, especially with how little time he had to learn them in the rapid-fire filming of _The Bachelor_. It would hurt that Yuuri didn’t have faith in him, but in that case, Victor would just have to surprise him. He’d show Yuuri along with the rest of the world that Victor belonged on the ice now more than ever.

Instead, Yuuri surprised Victor. He looked up at Victor and said, “Yes. I think you still have time.”

His voice was quiet, but his words were honest and sure. Victor hadn’t known how much he needed to hear them from another person until Yuuri had said them. The urge to hold Yuuri was too powerful, barrier be damned—he swung a leg up, ready to scramble over it and sing Yuuri’s praises.

Yuuri gasped and stood up, stumbling forward with his skates on. “Stop, _stop_ , why are you always so determined to hurt yourself when I’m at a rink with you—hold on—”

He made sure both of Victor’s feet were solidly on the ice again before heading towards the entrance. As soon as Yuuri was close enough to touch, Victor pulled Yuuri into his arms, relishing the easy way Yuuri fit against him. He put his arms around Yuuri’s shoulders, rested his chin against dark hair, and sighed, loving how warm Yuuri felt in the chill of the rink. Yuuri’s hands rested on his waist, steadying them both, before his arms slid around Victor in a more intimate hold. He seemed more than happy to let Victor cling to him however long he liked. “You are _so_ wonderful,” Victor told him, because it was absolutely important that Yuuri knew that.

Hiding his face in Victor’s chest, Yuuri asked, “Is it really that amazing, that I believe in you? You have so many people that admire you.”

“Ah,” Victor said, feeling a rush of affection, “but none of them are you, are they?”

Yuuri mumbled something that sounded like ‘so cheesy,’ but he didn’t pull away until the producers started giving the two of them pointed looks. Victor wanted to do something even cheesier, like skate around backwards while holding Yuuri’s hands, but Yuuri quickly proved that he was more experienced than Victor had realized. Victor marveled over how smooth Yuuri’s movements were, once Yuuri got acclimated to the ice again. Yuuri was the one who ended up pulling a smitten Victor along, skating backwards with a serene expression.

“There was an ice skating rink near my house in Hasetsu,” Yuuri explained to Victor, easing them into a turn. “I used to go all the time, especially when I got anxious. Skating made everything quiet for a little while.”

Victor could understand that sentiment. Skating had been an escape in more than one way for him, in the past. “I wish I could have competed against you,” he said wistfully. Yuuri’s programs would have been full of life and passion, all the things Victor felt that he himself was missing.

“Compete?” Yuuri laughed. “Didn’t you just say that you would coach me?”

“Alright then, I have a suggestion,” Victor said, trying to bite back his smile and failing. When Yuuri only raised his eyebrows, Victor continued, “I think it would greatly improve your skills if you kissed me.”

If nothing else, the corny line made Yuuri laugh again. Victor thought that he could have actually smooth-talked his way into Yuuri kissing him, but he was too struck by Yuuri’s smile. Yuuri was self-conscious in many of his habits, but in laughter, he forgot himself, and his joy shone freely for the world to see. _Victor_ had made him do that. Forget dreams, this was _heaven_. Victor never wanted it to end. He never—

Across the rink, someone shouted his name.

The voice was familiar. Victor dragged his gaze away from Yuuri, and sure enough, found that the source had been a small blond figure at the edge of the ice. Beside Yuri Plisetsky stood Victor’s coach; from this distance, Victor couldn’t tell whether Yakov was wearing a genuinely stern expression or not, but he imagined for an amused moment that Yakov had missed him so much that there was a single solitary tear sliding down his cheek. 

Victor’s imagining must have taken too long, because Yuri shouted his name again. Victor glanced between Yuuri and Yuri, and thought, _This is going to get confusing_.

“Yura!” he called out, taking Yuuri by the hand and zipping over to the edge of the rink. Yuuri came along without complaint, but Victor could feel him trembling. The trembling was probably a direct result of the twin glares that Yuri Plisetsky—or Yura, Victor had decided he would be referred to as—and Yakov were giving him. Ah, like coach, like pupil. It was a wonder Victor had ended up with such a sunny disposition.

Grabbing the barrier with both hands, Yura leaned over to practically growl in Victor’s face. “Don’t act so familiar, after you ran off to go woo some stranger on a dumb TV show.”

Because of his nerves, Victor thought that Yuuri would flinch away from Yura’s anger, but he only laughed. “That’s definitely going to be at the end of a commercial somewhere.”

If looks could kill, Victor would be finding himself bereft of a—boyfriend? Was that the right word for Yuuri, at this point? Either way, Victor let go of Yuuri, opening his arms and drawing Yura close to his chest. “What a warm homecoming. Have you gotten shorter since I’ve been gone, Yura?”

Yuuri stuck out a hand before Yura could decide whether he wanted to shout again or give Victor the silent treatment. “Hello, it’s nice to meet you, Yuri.”

Yura yanked himself away from Victor and eyed Yuuri with pointed distaste. “So you’re the guy who had such a hard time finding a boyfriend, he had to go on TV for it.”

Smiling patiently, Yuuri said, “Well, my sister might have thought so, at least.”

Victor hadn’t known that Yuuri’s sister had referred him to the show, but it made sense. Yuuri often seemed uncomfortable in front of cameras; it didn’t seem like a life he might have chosen for himself. Still, he had stuck with it, and come back onto the show again. It was like Yuuri grew more intriguing with every new thing Victor learned about him.

“Well,” Yura said, glaring at Victor again. He shook Yuuri’s hand after all, if not a bit roughly. “With his personality, Victor would also be the worst to date, so I guess you two deserve each other.”

That evaluation delivered, he pushed away from the wall and went to put on his skates. Yuuri held out a hand to Yakov next. Yakov did not shake it.

“Vitya,” he said. “I had to give the rest of my skaters a day off because of you. You’d better not have wasted time on this show.”

Yakov’s words were harsh, but Victor knew the man behind them well. Yakov could have turned the crew of _The Bachelor_ away, if he’d wanted to; he could have refused to see Victor and Yuuri, and kept Yura away. The fact that he hadn’t meant that he cared both about Victor and about his skaters, to give Victor a unique place for the show and his skaters a day off. Him telling Victor not to waste time was an urge for Victor to return to skating, as soon as he was ready. It was a relief to hear Yakov treating Victor the same as he always had—they’d fought many times before Victor had left for this season of _The Bachelor_.

People never believed Victor when he said that Yakov had a soft heart, but not many people had known Yakov for as long as Victor had. 

“Thank you for the use of the rink,” Yuuri said. “It’s really wonderful to be able to see a place so special for Victor.”

He was stiff and polite in a way that told Victor he had taken Yakov’s words as the sharp blades they pretended to be. Victor threw an arm over Yuuri’s shoulders and squeezed him close, grinning. “There’s no need to be so formal, Yuuri. Yakov, isn’t that right?”

Yakov grumbled. “Go skate with Yuri. I want to talk to this one for a bit.”

Victor placed a hand over his heart and gasped. “Are you defending my honor? Yakov, I never knew you cared.”

“Just. Go skate,” Yakov said. 

He had grown too used to Victor’s antics over the years. Deciding to be obedient for once, Victor skated off to the other end of the rink, carving aimless circles on the ice until Yura finished warming up and joined him. 

Yura had improved since Victor had been gone. He was more focused, his movements less frantic with the need to prove himself. When Victor called out a correction to his form, Yura only glared, rather than immediately leaping to do the opposite of what Victor had just said. Victor wished that he could ask Yura about Otabek, but there were at least two cameras pointed at the two of them. It would remain an unacknowledged topic until after filming was over. Victor kept glancing over at Yakov and Yuuri; the mics would also pick up whatever their discussion was about, but for now, Victor was totally in the dark. Yuuri kept nodding, eyes determined. Yakov had seen Victor at his best, his worst, and every day on the spectrum in between. What was he telling Yuuri?

Eventually, Yuuri skated over to join Victor and Yura, leaving Yakov to sit rinkside and hunch over a stack of papers. 

“Everything okay?” Victor asked carefully, taking Yuuri’s hand when it was offered.

Yuuri let out a tired sigh. “Yes. He just gave me a lot to think about, but—he really cares a lot about you. It was a good conversation.”

“He’s a good coach,” Victor said, nodding. He let Yuuri lean against him, a comfortable silence between them. 

It was too quiet for Yura, apparently; timing the jump so that it would be in their line of sight, he launched into a quad Salchow, nailing a clean landing. Yuuri started clapping as soon as Yura touched down. In response, Yura started showing off his other jumps—although, Victor noticed with satisfaction, there was no quad flip among them. 

The entire time, Yura acted like he didn’t notice Yuuri’s attention, but abruptly he glided to a stop and fixed Yuuri with a suspicious look. “You’re a dancer, right?”

Startled, Yuuri said, “I—like to dance, yes.”

“Since Victor will probably just hug you the whole time you’re here, I’ll teach you something,” Yura decided. 

Victor stood up a little straighter. Oh, he _had_ to see this. Only a little mournfully, he let Yuuri go.

* * *

Yakov and Yura stayed at the rink for an hour before heading off to do confessionals for the show, and then to the ballet studio. It felt like five minutes. By the end of it Yakov had come to the edge of the rink to watch Yura try and teach Yuuri the step sequence from his last juniors program, and before they left, Yakov let Victor hug him without a word. Yura threatened Victor with bodily harm but eventually gave in as well. All in all, it hadn’t seemed like they’d been enthusiastic about Yuuri, but they seemed willing to give him a chance, or at least recognize that Victor was serious about him. It was more than Victor had hoped for.

After they were gone, Yuuri pulled Victor over to the bench, and they sat down and pulled off their skates. When Victor began to stand up, Yuuri stopped him, coaxing him to sit straddling the bench and facing Yuuri.

“So, I have a letter here for you,” Yuuri said. He smiled nervously at Victor. “It’s, um…from your parents.”

A broad grin lit Victor’s face. “Really?” It wasn’t the same as having them there, but—it made Victor feel a little better, knowing that they’d written to him and by extension, Yuuri. Yuuri pulled out an envelope from his pocket; Victor’s smile turned wry, thinking of how the producers must have had a hand in getting this letter to Yuuri to be read on camera. The fact that it seemed to be written in English was proof enough of that, as both his parents were fluent but wouldn’t have needed to write to Victor using it. Still, that was what made good TV, Victor supposed.

Yuuri cleared his throat. “Vitya,” he read. “As you know, we keep up with the news about you. It was a little strange to see news about an American TV show right alongside news about figure skating, but at the same time, we were happy to see that you’d found something that you wanted to pursue outside of skating. We both admit that we are still worried about the outcome, but you have run off to strange places before and found success and joy. We can’t wait to meet Yuuri, and to see you again.” 

At this point, Yuuri stopped and refolded the note. It had been short, to the point but filled with love, and unsigned. While the writing of the note might have been encouraged by the show, it was definitely written by Victor’s parents. Victor had to close his eyes for a moment.

Yuuri moved closer to Victor on the bench. “Victor? Are you alright?” he asked. 

“I’ve never wanted to introduce someone to them so badly,” Victor admitted, emotion turning his voice a little ragged at the edges.

Again, Yuuri moved closer. His eyes flicked to something over Victor’s shoulder before returning to Victor. “Why don’t you do that now?”

Victor’s breath caught. Could Yuuri have really meant…? In the process of whirling around, he banged his leg on the bench. 

He forgot the pain immediately.

Irina Nikiforova was tall and imposing, with the same silver hair and blue eyes as Victor. Even when she was not physically at the helm of her successful company, she carried herself as if she were. It gave the piano performances she gave to family and friends sometimes a stiff-backed and dignified air. The only person more imposing was her wife, Emilia Nikiforova, who was blonde and brown-eyed and often recognized first as Irina’s business partner. Emilia’s hobby was ballet; she had been the reason Victor had begun figure skating. They both had Victor’s pale skin. Victor knew that it was easy to see the resemblance between him and his parents.

Emilia opened her arms, and Victor stumbled towards them. 

Instantly, both of Victor’s parents had him folded into an embrace. He squeezed them close. It had been too long since Victor had seen them, so long that he couldn’t put a date to the last time he had visited. He felt a stab of guilt in his stomach, but of course, his mothers didn’t seem angry at all. They had always been patient with Victor.

After a few moments, they let him go. “It’s so good to see you,” Irina said, smiling. “Have you been taking care of yourself?”

She always asked that question when she saw Victor, without fail. “Yes, yes,” he said. “But Mama, you have to meet Yuuri, he’s _wonderful_ —”

He pulled Yuuri forward, stepping back from the conversation to let the three of them introduce themselves. He could tell that Irina and Emilia were, like Yakov and Yura, a little unsure what to think of Yuuri. But Yuuri was obviously eager to make a good impression, and Victor knew that his parents would give Yuuri a chance. Victor hadn’t gotten his free-spirited nature from nowhere, after all.

“Thank you for coming, even though this is…well, kind of exploitative,” Yuuri said, letting out a huff of laughter. “It’s really nice to meet you.”

Raising her eyebrows, Irina glanced at the cameras. “Is it alright to say that?”

Yuuri laughed again, probably remembering how Victor had reacted similarly that first night by the pool. “Editing,” he explained.

“In any case, we had to come,” Emilia said. “Doesn’t this show end in an engagement?”

Suddenly, Yuuri was being stared down by two women who ruled their company with intense focus. Cheeks flushing red, Yuuri held up his hands and sputtered. “Oh, not—not always, just, most of the time. Um, I…”

Irina and Emilia, partners in all things, each looped an arm through one of Yuuri’s. “Well,” Irina said. “We’ll have plenty of time to talk about it on the way home for dinner.”

An overwhelmed expression on his face, Yuuri looked to Victor. “I hope you don’t mind. I know that you wanted to bring me somewhere else, but I thought you might want…”

He wasn’t the only one feeling overwhelmed. Victor looked at Irina, then Emilia, then Yuuri again. Dinner at a restaurant he had often frequented alone, or dinner with his family, who loved him? 

“No,” Victor said. “This is perfect.”

* * *

Victor’s parents did not actually live in St. Petersburg. They lived about a two hour’s drive from the city, a good distance away from the bustle of other people. In the car, with one camera sent along with them, Yuuri, Irina, and Emilia tentatively tried to bridge the gaps between them. Victor filled in more conversation when it began to die. Irina listened with the same rapt attention Victor always felt as Yuuri described his studies at university. Emilia was delighted to find out that Yuuri had studied dance with Minako Okukawa, a ballerina who originated from Yuuri’s hometown. Victor himself had learned from his mother, and then Lilia Baranovskaya, when Victor had grown too advanced.

They were still discussing ballet when they arrived at the Nikiforova home. When they stepped out the car, Yuuri blinked at the small but luxurious house that greeted them, eyes wide. The cars carrying the rest of the camera crew pulled up behind them.

“Were you expecting a mansion?” Victor teased Yuuri.

“Maybe a little,” Yuuri admitted. “This looks really nice, though.”

Irina and Emilia led Victor and Yuuri inside; Victor showed Yuuri where to hang up their jackets. Ever the types to be prepared, Irina and Emilia had dinner all ready, and only needed to heat up plates of food that Victor remembered from his childhood. He had missed Irina’s carefully put together pelmeni, Emilia’s warm mushroom solyanka, and the joint effort between the two of them that resulted in an apple pastila that Victor hadn’t been able to find the likes of elsewhere.

After dinner, Yuuri drifted off towards the grand piano in the first floor sitting room. As he settled down, Irina sat at the piano’s bench beside him, appearing hesitant to Victor’s eyes. Yuuri’s shoulders hunched a little. He was so nervous around others. Victor wished that there was a way to massage the tension out of Yuuri for good, but that wasn’t how life worked.

“Do you play?” Irina asked Yuuri.

Silent as a ghost, Emilia came to linger in the doorway behind Victor. She put an arm around his waist; he leaned into her, affection welling up within him.

“I used to,” Yuuri said. “I’m not sure how much I remember.”

He and Irina began to play each other bits of pieces they both knew. Sometimes they’d each play a different section, following each other; sometimes Yuuri would play something and Irina would echo it back. Victor remembered doing the same with Irina, as a child. Music filled the Nikiforova home.

“I don’t know a lot about him,” Emilia murmured to Victor, “but I trust you.”

Yuuri just _fit_ with all of the people who were important in Victor’s life. He handled Yura easily, listened to Yakov, had so much in common with his parents. Victor felt comfortable around him, encouraged and inspired by him, in a way that Victor had never thought he could reach with another person. He had never known anyone like Yuuri and didn’t think that he ever would. If Victor thought about what he wanted at the end of the show, he knew that it was too soon for an engagement—but for a relationship? For having Yuuri all to himself, off camera, with no limit on the time that they spent together? Victor wanted nothing more.

“Thank you,” Victor said. “I can’t wait to bring him home to you again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me before writing this chapter: this fic can't get any more corny and self-indulgent  
> me after: At Times....you surprise even yourself
> 
> as usual, thank you to everyone for reading, leaving kudos, commenting, etc! i really appreciate it!! (also, quick shoutout to my fellow rose buddies in the comments, i see y'all and i appreciate you haha)
> 
> next chapter: more hometowns, more worrying, more fun sights to see  
> [my twitter](https://twitter.com/lenionice)
> 
> edit: forgot a few lines near the beginning about where makkachin was. sorry yall!  
> edit again yikes: adjit kindly pointed out that i forgot about russian naming conventions when giving the names of victor's parents--they are now 'nikiforova', not 'nikiforov'. thanks adjit!!


	9. All That Glitters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi yall! the beginnings and aftermath of a panic attack are described in this chapter, but i don't go into the attack itself or describe it in graphic way. still, i wanted to put a quick warning at the beginning just in case.

The first time Yuuri had been on a plane had been the first time he’d left Hasetsu for university. 

He could still remember the drive to the airport; how his excitement and anxiety had both sent his stomach churning. He’d had an early flight at 5:30 in the morning and had barely eaten anything for breakfast, worried that the combination of his nerves and being a first-time flier would make him ill on the plane. It felt like a different person had hugged his parents goodbye, pet Vicchan one last time, gone through airport security, and sat in Yuuri’s seat. But when the plane had taken off, it had felt like a chapter in his life had ended and another had begun. Like Yuuri was being reborn. There would be Yuuri-in-Hasetsu, and then there would be Yuuri-in-America. Looking out over the dawn had felt poetic and meaningful.

With a dull thunk, Yuuri let his head fall against the tiny glass window beside him. He would never feel that way about flying again.

The plane he was sitting on was headed towards Lugano, Switzerland, for Chris’s hometown date. Not even twelve hours before Yuuri had been sitting in Victor’s childhood home, quietly marveling over how welcome he felt in Victor’s life. He’d been beyond anxious before the date, leaping to wild visions of Victor’s parents thinking badly of Yuuri and forbidding their relationship, but he’d forgotten to worry as he spoke with them more. It was easy to see where Victor got his personality from. 

Yuuri sighed, staring out at the fluffy clouds over the horizon. Victor’s parents were not the only people who had surprised him in Russia. Yuuri had fully expected a stern lecture from Yakov on how he wasn’t right for Victor, how things would never work out—but instead, Yakov had watched Victor skate off and then turned an evaluating gaze onto Yuuri for a long, drawn out moment.

“Katsuki Yuuri,” he’d said.

It had been strange to hear his name from such an accomplished man’s mouth, a person Yuuri had seen at Victor’s side for years. Yuuri hadn’t been sure exactly what expression his face was making. “Yes?”

“I don’t know if either of you have thought of this,” Yakov said, “but I feel that I should point it out. Make sure it’s not just your personalities that are compatible, but your lives as well. More often than not it’s incompatible lives that drive people apart.” 

Suddenly, Yakov had looked more tired than he did severe. He’d seemed less a renowned figure in the sport of skating than he was simply a man who cared about someone, and didn’t think any amount of yelling would stop that person from making a bad decision. Yuuri knew that Victor was a person who marched to his own beat, always working towards what he wanted with single-minded focus. It was a trait that Yuuri admired about him in regards to skating; it was also a trait that could lead a stubborn person into trouble. 

Yuuri had promised to think about what Yakov had said. Now, he couldn’t stop.

Did what he wanted out of life fit with what Victor wanted? Yuuri wasn’t sure. How could he be sure, when he didn’t even know what he wanted to do after this TV show? Victor had asked if Yuuri thought that he could return to skating. As worried as Victor seemed to be about his career, it was obvious that he at least had a goal in mind. Where would that leave Yuuri? Yuuri wished that there was an obvious answer within his reach. More concerning was how somewhere along the way, maybe even from that first cocktail party, Yuuri’s concerns had become less about fixing his public image and more about why Victor was here, what Victor wanted from Yuuri, what Yuuri wanted from _him_ —the list went on and on.

Exhausted, Yuuri’s mind went in circles. Knowing that he wouldn’t find any clarity within the span of his time on the plane, Yuuri tried, instead, to mentally prepare himself for his third hometowns date. Chris had never talked in depth about his family—all Yuuri knew was that Chris had three siblings and was the second youngest of them. There was no way to find out now just what he would be getting into.

Yuuri figured that he should at least try to get some sleep, so that he could meet them with fresh energy. He leaned back into his cramped seat, sighed, and willed his mind to go blank.

* * *

In a way it frustrating, to be able to travel to so many new places and not have free reign to explore them at all. All Yuuri could do was watch the sights of Lugano fly past the window of the car taking him to his first destination. It was a cloudy day, the streets dim. Yuuri hoped that Chris had chosen somewhere quiet—sleeping on a plane was never the same as sleeping in a bed, and Yuuri didn’t feel like he could summon the energy for something that required a lot of his attention.

The car pulled to a stop outside of a small café with large, clear windows. As far as Yuuri could see, there was only one employee at the counter inside. Chris was sitting at a table by himself. 

Relieved, Yuuri got out of the car and walked towards the front door. Chris spotted him through the windows before he entered, his pensive expression melting into a smile. He stood up from the table and met Yuuri with a warm embrace. Yuuri patted at Chris’s arms a little awkwardly and let himself be held, unable to hold back a smile of his own. Perhaps it had been selfish, keeping Chris here even though they both knew Chris wouldn’t be winning, but it felt nice to have someone around who didn’t expect anything in particular from Yuuri.

“It’s good to see you,” Chris said, releasing Yuuri and pulling out a chair for him. He waited until Yuuri sat down before continuing, “You look exhausted. Are you alright?”

Yuuri waved a hand, trying to look a little more alert. “Ah, just—not used to so much flying. It feels like I’ve been to every corner of the globe in the past week.”

“That was one of my favorite parts about competitive skating. All the traveling.” Chris leaned back in his chair and sighed. “You do know some good jetlag remedies?”

“The only thing that seems to work for me is a long nap,” Yuuri admitted. The possibility of a luxury like _that_ was far off. 

As their conversation continued, Yuuri examined the interior of the café. The color scheme seemed to mostly be a mix of brown wood and pale yellow paint; the paint was peeling in some places, showing just how old the building was. Yuuri’s gaze swept over the tables and to the long counter in the back, where standard café equipment waited to be used and a menu perched on the wall above it. The server behind the counter had light skin and rich brown hair that fell over his forehead a little messily. When his eyes met Yuuri’s, he jumped and focused back on the book he’d been reading. Yuuri felt a little bad for him, having to stand around just to wait for two customers. Although—the show would probably be great publicity for the café.

“Should we get something to drink?” Chris asked, drawing Yuuri’s attention back to himself. “The menu is in Italian, so I’ll go ahead and order for us. What should I get you? Tea? Coffee?”

Normally, Yuuri would have said tea, but his head still felt foggy from how tired he was. He tried to avoid coffee since it mixed badly with his anxiety, but…maybe he needed something a little strong today. If he closed his eyes for too long he felt like he would drift right off.

“Coffee sounds good,” he told Chris. “Surprise me?”

As Chris bustled over to the counter, the employee waiting jerked to attention, knocking over a stack of cups in the process. Thankfully, they were all paper, and the man sheepishly stacked them again at the counter before taking Chris’s order. He remained flustered, especially when Chris leaned against the counter and engaged him in conversation the entire time that he was working on Chris and Yuuri’s drinks.

Eventually, Chris returned with their drinks in tow.

“Sorry, I wanted to catch up for a bit,” Chris said, sliding Yuuri’s cup over to him as he sat back down. “It’s nice to see that he’s still working here. I used to come by more often, but then things got busier with my career, and it was less convenient.”

Yuuri took a cautious sip of his drink, pleased to find that Chris hadn’t gotten him something overly sweet. “Did you come here to relax?” 

Chris nodded. “I’d usually come right after practice, sometimes to meet friends. It was a peaceful way to end the day.”

If Yuuri had still only had his first impression of Chris, a quiet café might have seemed out of character for him, but in retrospect made sense. “What if I had been expecting somewhere a little more hectic?” Yuuri teased.

“I actually debated taking you to a club later, but they probably would have rented the space out for us,” Chris said, returning Yuuri’s grin. “And what is the club experience without being squished between five sweaty people at once?”

They sipped at their drinks, trading stories. Outside, the clouds finally parted to let the sun pour through the windows and over the inside of the café, bathing Chris and Yuuri in warmth.

“Lugano is in the Italian-speaking canton of Switzerland, right?” Yuuri asked, after a while. “I assumed that your first language was French, but is it Italian?”

“Yes, you’re right,” Chris replied. “I speak Italian at home, and then I learned English, and then French.”

“Why English before French?” 

“English was useful for skating. I knew when I was very young that I wanted to compete internationally, and so I started learning it then. French came later, more to get closer to my home country.”

Yuuri took a thoughtful sip of his coffee. If he were to learn a third language, which one would it be? One from a country close to Japan would be best, probably, but what language would Yuuri be most interested in? _Russian,_ he thought, and then had to resist leaping out his chair to escape his own embarrassment. 

Abruptly, there was a warm weight on Yuuri’s knee. He jumped as Chris gave him a sly smile, leaning closer.

“I bet the viewers will be thrilled, having both me and Victor in the final three. Two rival skaters, competing for your heart. But there’s really no competition, is there?” He gave Yuuri a meaningful look and removed his hand from Yuuri’s knee, reaching for his drink instead. The microphones would’ve picked up every word. Everyone would think that Chris had been acting confident about his own chances, but—Yuuri knew. He had been talking about _Victor_. 

Yuuri tried not to think about how red his face was. “So—how’s your coffee, Chris?”

Chris laughed, a joyful noise that spread throughout the café. From behind the counter came the noise of a something shattering. Chris and Yuuri glanced over towards the counter, startled, and realized that the man behind it had dropped a mug.

“I’d better see if he’s alright,” Chris said.

As Yuuri watched, Chris sauntered over to the counter, leaning over and saying something in Italian to the man behind it. Face bright red, the employee ducked down, presumably to clean up the shards. Chris frowned and said something else. The other man stood up straight again and hurried into the back, returning with a broom and dustpan. When Chris turned around to raise an eyebrow at Yuuri, Yuuri had to hide a grin behind his hand. If he and Chris had actually been romantically interested in each other, Yuuri might have been a little more concerned about how flustered the other man was around Chris—as it was, it was funny to watch Chris be so oblivious. Although…Yuuri probably had no room to speak, given how many times Mari had chided him for being unaware of other people’s feelings.

Thinking of his sister reminded Yuuri that there was still a second part of their visit to Lugano. He stared down at the dark coffee in his cup, his mirth fading away. Hopefully the coffee would wake him up. 

He still had the entire Giacometti family to meet.

* * *

The coffee did, in fact, wake Yuuri up. It also made Yuuri feel so anxious that his stomach rioted every time he so much as breathed. Trying to move as slowly as possible to quell his nausea was next to impossible, as it turned out that getting to Chris’s family home required going up a ridiculous number of stairs.

Chris stopped him as they reached the front door. “My younger brother is the only one who still lives here, but this house has been in my family for generations. I should warn you, though, my siblings are…”

He never got to finish, as the front door swung open to reveal a young woman who was the spitting image of Chris—in all ways but one.

Where Chris was full of smiles and good cheer, this young woman was leveling everything and everyone in her line of sight with a fierce glare. Her line of sight included Chris, the camera crew, and Yuuri. Yuuri, who had opened his mouth to greet whoever opened the door, froze.

“Mariangela!” Chris said. He opened his arms for a hug. “Good to see you. It’s been too long.”

Mariangela, presumably one of Chris’s sisters, replied in sharp Italian. She swept back into the house, leaving the door open behind her.

Yuuri’s anxiety felt like it was choking him from the inside. “She…she knew we were going to be here, right?”

“Yes.” Chris straightened up, as if adjusting a weight laid across his shoulders. “Shall we go inside, then? Beatrice is away, but you can meet Alessandro.”

As he and Yuuri entered the house, he explained to Yuuri that Beatrice was the oldest of his siblings; Mariangela was second oldest, Chris was third oldest, and Alessandro was the youngest of the four of them. Leading Yuuri through the wide hallways, he chattered on about how Beatrice was always the one to take him to skating practice. Yuuri didn’t mention that Chris left out any talk of his parents. He knew that the show’s producers would jump on any sign of drama, and it seemed like Chris might have enough of it, with how Mariangela had glared at him at the door. Thankfully, it was easy to focus on the tour of Chris’s family home. The place was gorgeous, laid out in light blues and surrounded by open windows that let dazzling rays of sunshine in. Still, there was clutter around the house. It was well-lived in and well-loved. Yuuri tried to distract himself from the coiled emotions in his gut by picturing a younger Chris, discovering the inspiration that was Victor Nikiforov while living in this house. Despite everything, it made Yuuri smile.

Alessandro was waiting for them out on the home’s back porch, reading a book. He didn’t look up as the crowd that made up the cast and crew of _The Bachelor_ paraded onto the deck.

Bravely, Chris stepped forward, opening his arms like he had with Mariangela. “Alessandro. It’s good to see you.”

Yuuri didn’t want to spend the entire time hiding behind Chris, making Chris go through all the effort with his siblings. Alessandro, unlike Mariangela, actually got up and returned Chris’s hug, but it was awkward even to an outsider. After the brothers separated, Yuuri gave Alessandro a smile and extended a hand. “Hi, I’m Yuuri, it’s nice to meet you.”

Chris’s younger brother shook Yuuri’s hand, but his eyes were on Chris the entire time. He too resembled Chris, only his eyes were slate-gray. His handshake was firm. When he opened his mouth, it was to ask Chris something in rapid-fire Italian.

“Please, English so Yuuri can understand,” Chris requested. 

Something cold flashed in Alessandro’s eyes. Whatever Alessandro told Chris in response sounded accusing and sharp. It obviously succeeded in wounding Chris, whose smile grew stiff. With that said, Alessandro walked back into the house, leaving his book behind on the table. Nerves bubbled in Yuuri’s stomach. Chris stared after Alessandro with wide eyes.

“What did he say?” Yuuri asked. He needed to know what had made Chris look like that.

Chris cleared his throat. “He said, ah…that the only reason they agreed to do this is because it was the only way I would come home and visit them. I don’t think they expected to be this mad when they saw me and you.”

The hometown dates had been going too well. Yuuri felt like he should have expected something like this to happen. 

Of course he had inadvertently helped cause a rift between Chris and his family. His breath was coming shorter. It was less that it felt trapped in his throat and more that it wasn’t there at all. Yuuri was familiar with this feeling, but he’d been doing so well, so far, even with all the cameras, even with everything—

“Chris, do you have a bathroom?” he asked. A stupid question, and not what Yuuri had meant to say, of course Chris had a _bathroom_ , Yuuri just needed to know where it was so he could get away from the cameras and—

Sharp green eyes examined him. “I’ll show you,” Chris said, gesturing for Yuuri to follow him. Yuuri fervently thanked the universe that Chris hadn’t tried to touch him. Every step felt heavier than the last. Yuuri was blindingly conscious of that fact there was probably an overzealous cameraman zoomed in on the way his fists were clenched tight. When Chris stopped in front of a nondescript white door, Yuuri breezed into the small hall bathroom without a backwards glance.

* * *

When Yuuri finally opened the door again, just a crack, he found that Chris was sitting propped up against the wall opposite the bathroom. The camera crew was squished around him in the hallway. Yuuri tried to ignore that one camera was definitely aimed at the bathroom door even as his heart trembled.

Chris scrambled up to stand. “Are you alright?” He still didn’t try to touch Yuuri. Yuuri got the impression that he had seen anxiety attacks happen many times, perhaps within the stressful environment of competitive skating. 

All Yuuri could feel was exhausted. “Yeah, it’s…it happens,” he said, lamely. 

There were some things he wanted to keep away from _The Bachelor’s_ greedy fanbase, even if he could never truly succeed at hiding them.

Yuuri came to sit by Chris against the wall. After a moment of hesitation, Chris sat back down as well. They existed in silence together until Chris spoke again.

“My siblings aren’t bad people, despite the showing they’re giving you today. It’s only…our parents passed away when we were all very young. All we had was each other.” Chris let out a breezy sigh. “To be honest, I don’t have many happy memories of my hometown. I’m sorry. I wish I could show you a better time. I should have expected that Mariangela and Alessandro would be angry, since they’re right. I haven’t visited in years.”

Listening quietly, Yuuri felt a pang of regret. Chris…probably hadn’t expected to get this far in the show, and to need to bring Yuuri to see his family at all. Yuuri would need to think carefully about whether to send Chris home at the next rose ceremony or not. He hadn’t been planning to, but—selfishly, Yuuri was keeping people on the show, holding them back.

“We’re ending this early,” Chris said.

Yuuri looked up at him, startled. Ending it early? “What—are you sure? I can…”

Shaking his head, Chris continued, “I’m not putting you through any more stress. And besides,” he added, “I want to sort out whatever issues my family is having in private, not on television while you have to stand and watch.”

Feeling a rush of gratitude, Yuuri nodded. Thinking about his first impression of Chris versus how he had come to see him—as a kind man he considered a friend—was almost unreal. When he and Chris stood up, the producers began to make a fuss, but once Chris made it clear he and Yuuri would sit on the floor being boring for hours if need be, they relented. 

Yuuri’s visit to Chris’s childhood home was over.

* * *

Minako fought and successfully got Yuuri a day’s rest after Chris’s hometown date—Yuuri was sure she’d had to say something opportunistic to get the producers to agree, like _Yuuri won’t give you good television if he’s this sleep-deprived and anxious_ , but he was grateful either way. He spent almost the entire day sleeping in his hotel room, only waking up to order room service, use the bathroom, and take a bath in the evening. It wasn’t his family’s onsen, but it helped.

Afterward, he boarded a plane to Bangkok, Thailand, for his final hometown date. 

He ended up being doubly glad for the extra rest, because Phichit brought him to Dusit Zoo. While Yuuri definitely wanted to see the park, it was also a large place that required a lot of walking, and Yuuri felt like he still needed about a hundred more hours of sleep. However, when Yuuri and the rest of the camera crew finally reached the front entrance of the park, Phichit was practically bouncing up and down. His excited grin left Yuuri echoing it with his own smile.

“Yuuri! Wow, it’s been a while, huh?” Phichit said, pulling Yuuri in for a hug. 

Going willingly, Yuuri let out a sigh. Phichit always was a soothing presence. “Believe me, it’s felt like years.”

As Phichit led Yuuri into the park—predictably empty save for the employees, thanks to the influence and funds of _The Bachelor_ —he looped his arm through Yuuri’s, full of good cheer.

Dusit Zoo was overwhelmingly large. Yuuri let Phichit pick where they wanted to go; the two of them trailed around to watch various animals, as the zoo boasted a wide range of animals even rare to Thailand. Tigers, lions, giraffes, albino barking deer, even penguins—definitely more animals than they could possible see in one short visit. Yuuri couldn’t read any of the signs in front of the exhibits, so Phichit read out interesting facts to him as Yuuri forgot all about how tired he was. 

Eventually, as they exited the Reptile House, the exhaustion caught up with him again. Phichit and Yuuri decided to take a break from walking and boarded one of the bright pink trams. The tram would only be rolling along merrily for 20 minutes. Even so, the ride felt like a gift from the heavens.

“This is so fun,” Phichit sighed happily. The scenery swept by, green and vibrant. “I haven’t been here in forever.”

Yuuri relaxed further into his seat. “What made you pick this place?” he asked, curious.

“I came here all the time as a kid. Me, my mom, and my sister would pack up lunch and eat together after looking at the animals all day. I never got tired of it. This zoo is actually what inspired me to become a photographer.” There was a determined light in Phichit’s eyes, despite that fact that he still wore an easy smile. “I want to show people how wonderful Thailand is, and part of how I can do that is taking pictures.”

A swell of admiration rose in Yuuri. Phichit knew what he wanted and was going for it, no holding back. “That’s amazing,” Yuuri told him sincerely.

“Thanks,” Phichit said. “We actually have some photos that I took here, back when I was a kid—I’ll have to show you when we go see my family.”

Phichit had talked a little about his family before. He and one of his older sisters were both studying at American universities; his other older sister was looking after their mom back in Bangkok. Yuuri could only hope that the rest of Phichit’s family was as kind and open as Phichit was. His experience with Chris’s siblings was still fresh on his mind.

Yuuri spent the rest of the day steeling himself for anything.

* * *

The first thing Phichit’s mother did was hug him.

Kannika Chulanont had a smile every inch as bright as her son’s. A little shell-shocked from the embrace, Yuuri could only nod as she introduced herself, her oldest daughter Chatchada, and her other daughter Mani all in the same breath. Her English was scattered but uninhibited. The easy welcome left Yuuri feeling dizzy; on the drive to Phichit’s home he’d been wound up tenser than he’d ever been, preparing for the worst.

“It’s good to meet you,” Yuuri remembered to say. 

Smile spreading even still, Kannika said something in Thai—beside her, Mani laughed and nodded.

“She said that you were the best part of last season,” Chatchada told Yuuri, grinning. “It’s true! When you got to the top three we were all hoping that you would be the next Bachelor.”

Chatchada’s dark hair was long and held back in an intricate braid, the same as her mother’s, while Mani’s was cropped to a length just a bit longer than Phichit’s. As embarrassed as Yuuri was by their praise, he was happy to know that Phichit’s family liked him even when he was at his most drunken worst. Chatchada’s words also reminded Yuuri that among his top three would most likely be the next Bachelor. Yuuri wondered when the producers decided who they’d ask to come star in their own season; Yuuri had gotten his offer only a couple weeks after filming ended.

“Mani was the one who got us all into the show,” Phichit explained. “She had some friends who watched it at her university, and then she was giving us recaps every week. Eventually we all just started watching it.” 

Mani had also been the one watching Phichit’s hamsters, Yuuri found out, but she had left them with her boyfriend and come back to Thailand so that she could meet Yuuri. Yuuri was amazed that they were all so excited to meet him. Like Victor’s family, Phichit’s had prepared food ahead of time, and eating the delicious meal laid out before him made Yuuri nostalgic for his own mother’s cooking. Over dinner Mani told the told the story of how her friends had tried to convince her to watch _The Bachelor_ with them for weeks before finally hooking her in. It had involved a cash bribe, at one point—but in the end Mani had sold herself out for a pint of ice cream and gotten attached to the show’s corny storylines. 

“Do you play the fantasy league?” Yuuri asked, still a little in disbelief that such a thing existed.

Mani and Chatchada both nodded. “All my bets are on Phichit this season, of course,” Chatchada said. She nudged Phichit in the side. “He’s a real catch.”

Everyone at the table was in high spirits. All Phichit did was laugh. Yuuri busied himself complimenting Phichit’s mother on her cooking, hoping that his face wouldn’t give anything away.

After dinner, they went into Phichit’s family’s living room, settling down on the couch together to marvel over the pictures of Dusit Zoo Phichit had taken when he was young. Eventually Kannika brought out the family photo album, and Yuuri laughed himself to tears over a photo of a young Phichit holding a pair of dark blue shoes over a lake. The photo was blurry, as if the photographer had only realized what Phichit was doing as the shutter clicked. 

“I hated those shoes,” Phichit sighed. “With a _passion_.”

“I’d hate to see what you did to a _person_ you disliked,” Mani remarked, and the rest of the family began to jump in with their own suggestions.

The night wound on. Eventually, Kannika, Mani, and Chatchada all made sly excuses to be elsewhere. Yuuri probably would have flushed red at the implications had it been earlier in the night, or even earlier in the string of hometown dates. As it was, he was sleepy, well-fed, and in safe company. The sofa underneath him was like a cloud, enticing him towards dozing off.

Before Yuuri’s eyes could slip shut, Phichit turned to face him on the couch. 

“Thank you for being here today. I’m really proud of my country,” Phichit said. “I didn’t know if I’d make it this far on the show, but—I’m glad I did. It was nice to show you Thailand, even if it was only a small part of it.”

“Well, you’ve definitely made me want to come back someday,” Yuuri told him, turning to face Phichit as well. “Thank you for coming on the show in the first place.”

Phichit hummed. “You know, to tell you the truth…I almost didn’t apply. I was focused on school, and work, and my family, and I kept telling myself I shouldn’t do it.”

That was a surprise. Phichit had seemed so self-assured and happy to be there, right from the first night at the mansion. “What changed your mind?”

“I realized some things could wait. And sometimes, you get caught up in worrying and miss big opportunities. I think it’s good to be aware of how things can go wrong, but if I had let myself think about it too hard, I would have missed an amazing experience,” Phichit said, looking far off. “I would’ve sat on the couch, watching the show with my family on Skype, and I wouldn’t have known how easy you are to talk to. I would have just thought about what might have happened if I’d come onto the show myself.” He laughed a little sheepishly. “My family would have had to hear a lot of complaining from me.”

“I’m glad you’re here,” Yuuri said, giving Phichit a small smile.

Yuuri was absolutely certain that he and Phichit would remain friends even after the show ended. Being friends with Phichit was easy. Yuuri admired him, both for his outlook on life and his unwavering love for his country. Yuuri had never even considered coming to Thailand before meeting Phichit. They’d only seen about half of Dusit Zoo, but Yuuri knew he would definitely try to come back to Thailand someday, especially if it meant seeing the rest of the park with Phichit.

And yet. 

Phichit had said that over-thinking was holding him back. Yuuri could relate, but—wasn’t it better to be realistic? Trying to hold onto things that might hurt you was always dangerous. Unbidden, his thoughts turned to Victor. _Him,_ Yuuri thought. _I want to hold onto him._ If he were to take Phichit’s philosophy to heart, he wouldn’t be counting down the days he had left until Victor discovered that the rowdy man he’d seen on TV was plain and boring. He wouldn’t be sitting on long flights wondering if it was even possible to be together, and whether he had ruined Victor’s career. Yuuri would be telling everyone to go home right now and asking Victor to elope.

Yuuri leaned his head back against the couch. _What a way to live,_ he thought, and closed his eyes.

* * *

And just like, the hometown dates were over and done with. All that was left to decide was who Yuuri’s top three would be—and therefore who would be firmly in the running to be the next Bachelor. There was Seung-gil, whose hometown date was pleasant but unremarkable, and who Yuuri still felt like he didn’t really know at all. There was Chris, whose hometown date had turned sour but whose company Yuuri appreciated more every time they spoke. It felt like Chris was a little lost—like he didn’t know where he wanted to be after his career had ended. Yuuri could draw his hiding out by keeping him on the show, or release him into the world to find his way. Then there was Phichit, who never seemed to expect anything out of Yuuri and opened up to him easily. Phichit, who Yuuri would have been well-secure to chose as the winner this season had the fourth man not been on the show as well. 

_Victor._

Which three would he keep for another week?

In his hotel room, preparing for the second to last true rose ceremony, Yuuri knew that he had already decided.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so uh...it's been a while, huh? if you're still reading this fic, thank you, and i'm sorry for the long wait! hopefully i'm back on track. side effects of this chapter: i REALLY want to go to dusit zoo now :(
> 
> thanks so much for reading!!  
> [my twitter](https://twitter.com/lenionice)


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